Another Shot At Life
by CatJetRat
Summary: Draco's going on trial for war crimes he committed under Voldemort. Yet an unexpected savior comes to his aid, much to his chagrin. Afterward, he goes back to Hogwarts in an attempt to finish his schooling. HPDM slash. D/s with Top!Harry DH compliant. EWE
1. Chapter 1

**A Shot At Life**

**Draco's POV**

_I promise you anything for another shot at life…_

Draco jerked his head up reluctantly to face his jury. Fifty pinched faces observed his war torn one coldly. Draco sighed, unsure why they were even bothering with this farce of a trial. His conviction was inevitable, as inevitable, he realized now, as was Potter's defeat of the Dark Lord.

Lucius Malfoy had already been convicted of several counts of treason and murder. He was already in his cell as Draco awaited his own fate. Narcissa had barely escaped Azkaban, but since there was little concrete proof that she had actually done anything wrong, other than being married to Lucius, she had slithered away clean from the war, inheriting Lucius' mass fortune after he'd been convicted. The Ministry had attempted to seize the Malfoy estate, but hadn't been able to find the proper legal precedent to do so. Not that it mattered, anyway. If Draco ever saw his home again, it would be through old, deadened eyes. Draco was only grateful that the Dementors had been banished from the land, so he might be able to avoid insanity.

"Has all the evidence and testimony been presented?" Draco was jerked away from his gloomy thoughts as the Chief Witch of the Wizengamot spoke. There were nods from the witches and wizards seated around Draco.

"Mr. Malfoy?" Marcia Marchbanks addressed him, perhaps more kindly than she had his father. She had the look of a woman who simply wanted the war and trials to be over and done with. It was a look most wizards shared, and one the Draco knew he would never be rid of. "Do you have anything else you would like to add?"

_Yes. You can all kiss my pureblood arse._ Draco pursed his lips, knowing that his one chance for salvation would be to profess his deepest regrets for the "wrongs" he had committed. Yet the last six months of trials had taken their toll. He was sick of apologizing, tired of people looking at him like a maggot in their food. How was he to explain anything to these people? None of them could possibly begin to understand how hard it was to go against everything you'd been raised from birth to believe. Draco had come close, right before killing Dumbledore. If the Death Eaters had just been delayed five minutes….

"Mr. Malfoy?" Marchbanks' tone was beginning to show signs of strain.

Draco cleared his throat. "I apologize for my actions. I didn't…I wasn't raised to know any different. I wish I could change what I've done, but I can't. I just ask that the Wizengamot give me a second chance."

There were a few derisive snorts, and Draco felt a strange air of desperation. He'd tried to avoid any such feeling thus far by reassuring himself that they wouldn't sentence an eighteen year old boy to prison for life. How could they? But he knew now that he'd underestimated the hatred that had grown in their hearts from years of war and uncertainty. It didn't matter that he was eighteen, that he'd been raised to believe what he was doing was right. They didn't see him at all. They just saw the mark on his arm.

Marchbanks raised her eyebrows. "Is that all?" she asked. Draco grit his teeth, and nodded. "Very well. If that is all, then we shall—"

She was abruptly cut off by the double doors swinging open. Draco frowned, craning his neck around and pulling at his chains to see who had entered.

_Oh no._ Draco jerked back around, horror and humiliation coloring his face. Harry Potter. Harry bleeding Potter. The damned Chosen One had come to see his demise.

Draco hunched down in his seat, for the first time feeling the burn of embarrassment. All his friends, family, teachers, and the bloody Wizengamot could watch his downfall, but the second his childhood nemesis came into the picture, he went from feeling melancholy and doomed to angry and mortified.

"Mr. Potter!" Marcia Marchbanks' voice turned from distant and cold to warm and delighted so fast it was head spinning. Draco's scowl worsened. "To what do we owe this pleasure?"

And damn if the whole room didn't seem happy at Potter's appearance. Draco could feel Scar Head looking at him, but Draco refused to give him the pleasure of seeing Draco as a broken man.

"I'm here to testify on Draco Malfoy's behalf."

Draco's resolve to not look at Potter broke instantly after that statement, and he nearly broke his neck yanking it around to look at him. Potter had a half-smile on his face, but he didn't seem to be joking. One glance at the room told Draco why. Nearly every witch and wizard in the room seemed to have lost control of their jaw and were staring at Potter in mass confusion. Had the situation been less dire, Draco might have laughed. He'd never actually seen someone's jaw drop before, and indeed, had thought it to be simple exaggeration on the part of overzealous writers.

"I hope I'm not too late." This statement seemed to break Ms. Marchbanks out of her haze, and she gave him an awkward smile.

"Nearly, but you arrived just in time. Please, tell us what you have to say."

The whole room, including Draco, listened raptly as Potter began to speak. Had Draco known from the start what Potter was going to say, he might have spoken over him and begged the Wizengamot to just kill him right then.

"When I first met Draco, I thought he was a complete and utter prat." This earned him a few snickers, and Draco glared. "But then I met his father, Lucius." The room sobered instantly. "And I saw how his influence had affected his son. In our sixth year, I suspected that Draco had become a Death Eater, based upon some things I heard him say to friends on the train to school. He seemed happy at first, proud to follow in his father's footsteps. I spent most of the year watching him, following him, trying to catch him in the act. I hoped to stop him from whatever it was he planned to do. But in observing him, I saw him grow worn, and tired. He seemed constantly on the verge of cracking. I walked in on him crying in the bathroom one day. He was so broken, so different from the pompous little boy he'd been mere months before. He saw me, and tried to hex me, of course." Potter allowed himself a small smile, and a few of the witches and wizards followed suit. Draco's glare intensified, and he secretly dared Potter to reveal what happened after. "Then, at the end of the year, he finally achieved his goal. He fixed the Vanishing Cabinet, and allowed Death Eaters into Hogwarts. I didn't know of this, of course. I was with Dumbledore at the time, away from the castle, trying to find a means to stop Voldemort. We came back, and landed on the Astronomy Tower. I went to get help while under my invisibility cloak, but Dumbledore froze me as Draco burst in. I watched as Dumbledore tried to reason with Draco, who revealed that Voldemort had threatened to kill both Draco and his parents if Draco didn't do as he was told. Draco was shaking, and broken, terrified to not obey Voldemort, but unable to bring himself to take another life. I watched as they stood there for several minutes, while Draco did nothing to harm Dumbledore. Dumbledore, meanwhile, attempted to persuade Draco that he and his family would be protected if they came over to our side. Draco was lowering his wand when the Death Eaters burst in. What happened next was beyond Draco's control, as Severus Snape killed Dumbledore by his own request.

"Draco was then sucked back into the Death Eater's world. Voldemort threatened and coerced him into continuing to do as he asked. Still, when I was captured by Death Eaters while in a poor disguise, Draco refused to identify me. He protected me, even though it might have been safer for him not to."

Potter took a breath, and Draco struggled not to leap over the bench and strangle him. "I know he was a Death Eater, and that's not a good thing, but he was brainwashed from birth to believe it was. Draco's a good man, unlike his father. I believe if you give him another chance, he won't waste it." Potter gave the Wizengamot another smile, bowed, and went to stand next to Draco, who clenched his hands. It wouldn't do to kill the Chosen One, particularly after that glowing speech. It might negate its effects.

Ms. Marchbanks cleared her throat. "Well, if that is all, we shall put it to a vote. All in favor of convicting the accused on the charge of allying himself with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, please raise your hand."

Ten or twelve wizards raised their hands. "All in favor of clearing the accused of all charges, please raised your hand." The other forty or so wizards raised their hands. Marcia Marchbanks smiled down at Draco, a genuine, true smile. "Well, Mr. Malfoy. It seems you are free to go."

Draco looked down at his wrists as the chains fell away, and the podium he was locked in vanished. He swallowed, and rubbed his wrists, hardly able to believe he was a free man.

"Congratulations."

Draco crashed back to earth real fast at the sound of Harry Potter's voice. Draco unwillingly looked into the face of his nemesis, and silver joined green as their eyes met.

"Guess I owe it all to you." The words felt like broken glass as they left his mouth. "How many life debts do I owe you now?"

Potter laughed airily, and Draco struggled not to punch him. "Let's not keep track now, shall we?"

"Right," Draco said, and stepped past him. He walked over to retrieve his wand from the clerk, and felt relief rush through his entire body as his fingers warmed the hawthorn wood for the first time in what felt like years, though in reality was only about six months. He turned to exit the room, and jumped as he saw that Potter was still next to him.

"So what are you planning to do now?" Potter asked, friendly as could be.

_Hex you._ "Go home and shower," Draco replied shortly. Potter laughed again, and Draco wished that Potter-sized muzzles existed.

"I mean in general. In life. Are you going to go to work, go back to school, what?"

"Why do you care?" Draco asked, genuine curiosity coming out over the anger he felt.

Potter looked taken aback. "Well, I just mean…I thought you might need a friend."

"Really?" Draco's tone turned acerbic. "Is that why you came in there and told everyone what a pathetic crybaby I turned into two years ago? Why you made sure they knew I didn't have the courage of my convictions, the balls?"

Potter's expression was quickly turning cold. "No, I just thought you might enjoy life on the other side of prison bars better. I wanted to help."

"So you decided to come sweeping in at the last thirty seconds of my trial? Because you wanted to help? Couldn't have stopped by four months ago, when my father was on trial?"

"Your father is an evil bastard and he deserves to rot in prison," Potter said in a low voice. "You aren't. You shouldn't have to spend your whole life in jail because of how he raised you."

"Whatever, Potter," Draco said in disgust. "You just did this to feel good about yourself. Same as always, you just wanted to make an entrance, and appear to be the benevolent, all-forgiving god-like figure everyone believes you to be. You probably thought I would prostrate myself before you and beg to be forgiven because I've been oh-so bad. Sorry, doesn't work that way. I'm never going to be one of your drooling fans. Thanks for springing me, I suppose, but I'll be happy enough if I never see you again."

"Fine!" Potter snarled. "I never should have helped you in the first place, you ungrateful shit! I hope you trip down the stairs of your empty mansion and die because no one gives enough of a crap about you to check and see if you're alive!"

"And I hope you drown under the copious amounts of drool produced by all your fan girls and boys!"

"Rot in hell Malfoy!"

"Get eaten by the giant squid, Scar-head!"

"Fine!"

"Fine!"

They turned and swept away from each other, both noticing but refusing to acknowledge the whole Wizengamot watching as they reduced each other to screaming school children once again.

**A/N:** Okay, I think that's the first piece of fanfiction I've written in over a year. What do you guys think? Has my writing style improved? I'll try and update this as often as possible, though I am going back to school soon, so it may be hard. Adios!

-CatJetRat


	2. Chapter 2

_Perfect boys with their perfect lives…_

**A Shot At Life**

**Chapter 2**

**Harry**

Harry shook back his unruly mop of black hair as he entered Platform 9 ¾. A frown crinkled his scar as he glanced around. When he had last been there, over two years ago, there had been at least a thousand students saying goodbye to weeping, flustered mothers and amused fathers. Now no more than a hundred people stood around the scarlet steam engine.

A sigh escaped him. He wasn't sure why this came as a shock, but it did, none the less. Of course parents wouldn't want to send their children back to a school that had recently been a war zone.

A figure crashed into him from behind. "Oy, mate!" Ron exclaimed as they both tumbled over. "You're supposed to get out of the way after you go through!" No sooner than those words left his lips did Hermione then join them in a sprawl on the ground.

"What the—" she began angrily, and then she caught sight of the platform. "Oh," she said softly. "Come now, Ron, Harry, get up."

They obliged her and moved quickly away from the entrance. "Well, we knew it would be this way," Hermione said. "The war just ended. Everyone's probably still really upset and worried."

"The war ended over a year ago, Hermione," Ron said with a frown. "Shouldn't everyone be over it by now?"

"Don't be naïve, Ronald," Hermione snapped. "Hogwarts became a war ground last year. If you had children, would you send them back? There are still Death Eaters at large. Parents are probably concerned about them targeting Hogwarts."

"Forget about them targeting Hogwarts," Ron said in a low voice. "One of them is already here."

Harry looked around to see whom Ron was gesturing at. Through the smoke he could distinguish the tall, pale figure of Draco Malfoy. His stomach gave an uncomfortable lurch. He hadn't seen Malfoy since their fight after his trial. The last six months had been far better to Malfoy than the six months before that. His cheeks were slightly filled in, and he no longer looked like he was about to keel over.

"Slimy git," Ron muttered. "I can't believe they cleared him of all charges."

"Leave it alone, Ron," Harry said, guilt churning in his stomach as Hermione shot him a meaningful glance. He still hadn't told Ron about testifying at Malfoy's trial. Ron might consider it some sort of betrayal, and Harry didn't really want to deal with it, honestly. He'd only told Hermione because she'd seen him right after the trial, when he'd been rather infuriated and unable to keep his mouth shut.

"Why? He deserves it. What the hell is he doing here, anyway? Is McGonagall really going to let him back into the school?"

"I don't see why not," Hermione said, shooting Harry a worried glance. "It's not like he was actually convicted of anything."

"Oh, come on, Hermione, that's complete—"

Harry tuned them out as they fell into familiar bickering. It might have been nice against the backdrop of sobbing mothers and excited children, but in the somber, quiet air of the platform today, it simply felt rather out of place.

Harry looked back at Malfoy. He was alone, which really, wasn't a big surprise. Hardly any Slytherins were coming back to Hogwarts. The only other ones he knew of were Blaise Zabini and Pansy Parkinson, and maybe five or ten more. Malfoy stood a bit away from the train, his back straight, trying to look like he was observing everything rather disdainfully, but Harry could easily see through that mask. His hand was inside his robes, undoubtedly gripping his wand, ready to defend himself at a moment's notice. Yet he still couldn't see….

Harry moved as swiftly as he possibly could, tackling the father of a Ravenclaw right before he could attack Malfoy from behind. Malfoy flew around, wand at the ready, but the man had already shoved Harry off and hurried his wife and son off of the platform. Harry sighed and stood up, glancing at Malfoy, whose lip was curling in disgust.

"_Stop_ that, Potter!" he spat.

"Yeah, you're welcome," Harry replied coolly, already regretting his decision.

"I don't need a personal body guard; I can take care of myself!" Malfoy hissed. "At this point, I'm tempted to hire someone to kill you just so I can save you and even the score."

"You know, you could start by showing a little gratitude. Wouldn't kill you," Harry shot back.

"It might," Malfoy replied darkly.

"Okay, fine!" Harry said, temper rising. "Next time you're about to get killed, which might happen any second, since you were stupid enough to show your face here, of all places, I'll just stand back and watch the show! Maybe grab some popcorn."

"That would be better than knowing that I owe you yet _another_ life debt."

"DRACO!"

Harry and Malfoy winced simultaneously as a high-pitched shriek rang through the air, and the newly long black hair of Pansy Parkinson slapped Harry in the face as she ran by him to smother Malfoy in a hug.

"I've missed you so much! Is this mean, ugly boy bothering you?" Pansy simpered. Malfoy smirked.

"Why, yes he is, Pansy. Shall we get on the train?"

"We shall."

Shooting Harry a contemptuous glance, Pansy swept her hair over her shoulder, and, taking Malfoy by arm, led him onto the train.

"Mate," Ron said, coming up next to him, "Has it occurred to you that a lot of our problems would be solved if you just _stopped_ saving his life?"

Draco

Pansy simpered and lavished praise upon Draco until they reached the back of a train and an empty compartment. She shut the door, cast a silencing charm, and turned to him with a serious expression.

"All right, you idiot. Care to tell me what the hell you're doing here?"

"You know, Pans, I don't see why you feel the need to keep up the premise of being a complete idiot around the general populace," Draco said mildly, ignoring the question. "The real you is quite lovely."

"The general populace wouldn't appreciate the real me properly," Pansy said impatiently. "Besides, underestimating me has saved me from prison."

"Yes, but you weren't actually a Death Eater."

"Precisely. The Dark Lord thought I was too useless to employ, thus, I never had to become a Death Eater."

"Your intelligence never ceases to amaze me," Draco said, with no small amount of admiration.

"Flattery isn't going to get you off the hook," Pansy snapped. "What. Are. You. Doing. Here?"

"Where else would you have me be? Locked in my manor, too afraid to leave the house in case of attacks from Death Eaters and Death Eater haters? Or here, learning useful skills and being social, while I try to decide exactly which country I need to flee to to have any chance of a real life, one that isn't haunted by memories of the Dark Lord and his mark, the one I have yet to figure out how to remove?" Draco yanked up his sleeve, exposing his Dark Mark. Pansy surveyed it coolly.

"Stop being melodramatic," she said. "What I want to know is, why haven't you sold the Manor and fled yet? I'm thinking maybe somewhere in Central America. Perhaps Costa Rica. You could take me with you, and we could drink those fruity, alcoholic drinks while sitting at the beach, and we could make love at night."

"Now who's being melodramatic?" Draco rolled his eyes.

"It's not like it takes a long time to leave the country. You sell the house, collect the money, get on your broomstick, and leave."

"Okay, two things," Draco said. "One, who exactly am I going to sell the manor to in this post war-ravaged economy? Two, even if I could find a buyer, my mother legally owns half of that house. So unless you're suggesting I find a way to kill her, I can't actually sell the house without her consent. Which I can guarantee she won't give."

"So what exactly is your plan?" Pansy asked with a sigh, finally sinking down onto a seat. Draco sat opposite from her, shrugging his shoulders.

"Go back to school. Practice magic, try to find a specialty, and wait for things to calm down."

"Why do you need a specialty?" Pansy asked. "You have enough money to survive comfortably for the rest of your life."

"It's…" Draco hesitated. "I just…don't want to."

Pansy frowned. "Why?"

Draco looked away from her and out the window. With a jolt, he realized that the train had started moving.

"Because I want to be something other than what I was," he said softly.

"You're going to have a hard time accomplishing that with Potter around," Pansy said, not unkindly. "He turns you into a screaming little boy."

"That's because he's a pompous prat," Draco said sharply. Pansy merely raised her eyebrows, and Draco winced slightly. "Look-let's just not talk about Potter, okay? I've had to deal with him enough for one lifetime."

"Look, Draco," Pansy said, clearly trying to tread carefully, "He saved your life, more than once. How many times has it been now?"

_Four_. "No idea," Draco said airily.

Pansy glared at him, seeing through the lie. "Draco, the life saving isn't something you can just ignore. You're eventually going to have to return the favor, whether you like it or not."

Draco didn't respond, displeased that she made him think about the reality of the situation. He wouldn't admit it to her, but the life-debt(s) he owed Potter was one of the biggest reasons he had decided to go back to Hogwarts. When he heard Potter was going to finish out his final year, Draco knew that it was his best chance of repaying the life-debt(s) he owed Potter so that he could actually leave the country without the fear of it coming back to haunt him, the way it had Wormtail. That was why he'd been so angry that Potter had, yet again, saved his life on the platform. It was just another debt he would have to repay.

"So how was your summer?" Draco asked abruptly, rather desperate for a change of subject. Pansy eyed him suspiciously, but she never had been able to resist talking about herself, and soon, she was jabbering on about having learned a Muggle game called chess and the seduction of her newest servant, an eighteen-year-old Italian girl named Natalia.

Just as Pansy was describing how she had been caught by her mother while screwing Natalia on the dining room table, they arrived in Hogsmeade.

"And then my mother says, 'We eat on that table!' and I said, 'I'll be sure to have Natalia clean it for you' while continuing to—"

"Oh look, we're here," Draco said gratefully, and got up swiftly, grabbing his trunk and his owl cage.

"Draco," Pansy said, grabbing his arm, her face earnest again. "Be careful. I know you think you're safe here, but there are a lot of people, student and teachers alike, who would love to see you dead."

Draco's gaze softened minutely. "Thanks, Pans," he said, and squeezed the hand gripping him, then carefully extricated himself from it.

They exited the train. Up ahead, Draco thought he could see the loud red hair of the Weasel as he got into a carriage with two other people, likely the Mudblood—Granger, he had to remind himself; couldn't go around using that word anymore—and Potter. Draco frowned. Whether he liked it or not, he was going to have to stay semi-near Potter if he wanted to be there for any life-saving opportunities. But that would prove rather difficult if Potter was always surrounded by his fan club. Maybe he should learn the Disillusionment charm.

Draco and Pansy boarded a carriage with Blaise Zabini, who issued a noncommittal greeting. Draco nodded in response, and Pansy latched onto his arm, slipping back into her stupid, annoying personality and chattering away with him.

Draco looked over them to the carriage containing Potter. Another redhead ran up to the carriage and jumped into it, attaching herself to Harry and covering him with kisses. Draco pursed his lips. Great. The Weasellete. Yet another annoying stalker he'd have to avoid. Fantastic.

The carriages started moving, and Draco observed the creatures pulling them with curiosity. So that was what a Thestral looked like. Strange. He'd always imagined that they would be terrifying, but they weren't. They were just sort of…there. Like they had nothing better to do than pull the Hogwarts carriages.

Eventually they pulled up to the entrance of Hogwarts, and Draco had to admit that he was rather impressed. If he hadn't seen it happen, he would swear that Hogwarts hadn't been nearly destroyed a year ago. It was the same school he remembered, glittering with candlelight and enchantments.

They stepped off of the carriages and walked up the entrance to the castle. Draco spared another glance at Potter, hoping he'd trip down the stairs and provide Draco with a perfect opportunity to clear one of his life debts. No such luck, though Draco did note with glee the annoyance on Potter's face at having the Weasellete glued to his side. Clearly not all was well with the Golden Couple.

Draco grimaced suddenly at his thoughts. Pansy was right; Potter did manage to bring out the envious, temperamental eleven year old in him.

They filed into the Great Hall and took their places at their various tables. Most of the old staff was still there, albeit a tad threadbare. Draco met the glittering, black-eyed gaze of Severus Snape with a certain amount of satisfaction. They'd never told anyone, but Draco had been Snape's apprentice for a time, and had discovered his prone body the morning after the battle, and had known exactly what antidote to give him. Severus wasn't stupid. He knew that the Dark Lord may have Nagini attack him, and as such had taken precautionary measures. Potter, being the uneducated lout that he was, had simply thought Snape to be dead and left him. Draco, however, knew where to look for him after Potter had killed the Dark Lord, and gave him the antidote before the poison actually killed him. The expression on Potter's face when he saw Snape alive had been priceless. Unfortunately, it was the last thing he saw before four different Aurors stunned him simultaneously and dragged him off to jail. Snape had been released much sooner than he, on account of Potter's adamant testimony.

Professor Snape was not, however, sitting in the Headmaster's chair. That seat was occupied by Professor McGonagall. Officially, he had chosen to not continue as Headmaster because he decided he would rather be Potions Master, but privately he told Draco that he knew no one would be willing to follow him after the previous year. Potter might have been able to get his charges cleared, but few teachers and parents trusted him.

Draco settled down in a seat at the Slytherin table and looked around despondently. Less than fifteen people occupied the Slytherin table. There were maybe twenty at Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw, and little more than fifty at Gryffindor, which was rather unsurprising, not that Draco would ever admit it.

Professor McGonagall stood up, and the few students who had been speaking fell silent.

"Unfortunately," she began, voice slightly hoarse, "There will not be a Sorting this year. There were no parents who felt…comfortable sending their young children to Hogwarts in this atmosphere. However," she added, voice strengthening. "This is still a school, and you will still learn. We have taken every precaution possible, and I feel confident that you will all be safe. I know that these last few years have been hard on all of us, but the worst is over. Now we must rebuild, and that starts with learning. We must work together, and more than anything, trust each other. I promise you, every person I let in this school, teacher and student alike, is someone that I trust, and believe will contribute to this school. We must try to rebuild trust with each other. Now, enjoy the feast, and try to relax." She smiled at everyone, as gentle a gesture as Draco had ever seen from her, and he gave her a small, grateful smile when her gaze met his. Before he came back to Hogwarts, she had spoken to him and expressed her faith in him, since Dumbledore always had had faith in him, and whoever Dumbledore trusted, she did, especially after news about Severus Snape came out.

She nodded at him, and he turned to the table as food appeared. He smiled, feeling rather fond of house-elves at the moment. They had prepared food as if all thousand students were at Hogwarts, instead of barely one hundred.

Draco tucked in, glance flicking to Potter every once in a while, deeply hoping that he'd fall on his fork or something. Despite what he'd told Potter at the platform, he couldn't actually arrange for Potter to be put in a life-threatening situation, or else it wouldn't count. So he just had to stick around, and hope that Potter managed to put himself in a life-threatening situation four times this year while Draco just happened to be lounging about. Maybe he should try being friends with—

No. No, that wouldn't work at all, not when every word out of Potter's mouth made Draco want to kill him rather than save him.

Draco sighed and bit into a chocolate cherry when dessert appeared. This year was going to be tough.

**A/N**: Sorry this took so long. Fifteen hours of classes and a pretty boyfriend keep me occupied a lot of the time. So, what did you guys think? Sorry, but I couldn't help bringing back Snape. I love him too much. Anyway, I'll update when I can. Adios!

-CatJetRat


	3. Chapter 3

Nobody wants to hear you sing about tragedy…

**A Shot at Life**

**Chapter 3**

**Draco**

Draco rolled over in his bed, shivering. Damn but he'd forgotten how cold it could get in the dungeons. He grabbed his wand and cast a quick heating charm before murmuring "Lumos," checking the clock on the wall. Barely seven, and his first class wasn't until ten.

"Bollocks," he muttered, extinguishing his wand and laying back again. The pillow was soft and cool against his cheek and he relaxed into it, able to appreciate it in light of the heating charm. When he was younger, coming to Hogwarts used to be a bit of an adjustment after the luxury of the Manor. Six months in prison, however, had drastically altered his perception of comfort. Draco sat up, knowing that he would be unable to sleep with the direction his thoughts were heading.

Lucius Malfoy had never exactly encouraged what one might call "philosophical thought", though Draco had always been rather prone to it. However, after being thrown in the Manor dungeon for a day when he was eight for asking about why the Dark Lord used Dementors, Draco had avoided sharing any philosophical thoughts at all with his father, and indeed, had tried to avoid it completely after that. By the time he reached Hogwarts when he was eleven, he was a perfect little automaton, spouting his father's words like Gospel. By the time he started to think for himself again when he was sixteen, it was too late, and Draco spent the next two years of his life trying desperately not to entertain any treasonous thoughts, knowing that the wrong one could end him in a flash of green light.

But prison…prison had given him time to think. Deprived of his wand and all social activity except for the interrogations, all he was able to do was think. The conclusions he came to were unsettling, and he spent a great deal of time trying to resist them, but they were inevitable, he knew. In a way, he was almost glad of it. Glad to realize the insanity that was the Dark Lord. It was better to recognize the truth of the situation rather than waste his life on some foolish quest to continue the Dark Lord's work, the way he knew some were.

It wasn't so much that he thought the Dark Lord was wrong about everything. Draco still knew that Purebloods were inherently superior to Mudbloods (_Muggle-borns, Muggle borns!_) and that Purebloods belonged in power. However, trying to completely overthrow the government had been a stupid idea on the part of the Dark Lord. He should have simply tried to influence the government politically the way Lucius had. The Dark Lord had made far too many enemies, far too quickly. He could have achieved his objective far more easily without all the bloodshed and enemies he had made. He could have effortlessly become Minister of Magic.

Draco sighed, and got out of bed, pulling his robes on. But it was too late now. It would be at least a hundred years before people forgot the horror of the war enough to start putting any measures about Purebloods in place. And by then it would probably be too late. There likely wouldn't be any Purebloods left at that point.

Draco pocketed his wand and exited his dormitory. The sun hadn't yet risen, and the halls were quiet, torchlight flickering off the walls.

Draco turned a corner, and ran smack into someone. Draco fell to the ground, but the other person managed to stay standing.

"Bloody hell!" Draco snarled. "Watch where you're—oh."

Harry Potter quirked an eyebrow at him. "Now, what if I'd been a teacher? You'd probably have landed yourself in detention." He held out a hand to Draco.

"Yes, that would certainly have been devastating," Draco replied, ignoring the hand and standing up by himself. "I'm sure six months in prison doesn't compare to scrubbing floors." He sidestepped Potter, and continued down the hall. He could feel Potter's eyes scorching into his back, but he didn't care. If Potter wanted to stalk him, all the better. Maybe then he would actually have a chance of saving the git's life, and then he could leave Britain with a clear conscience, and magic free of Potter.

"I'm still waiting for that 'thank you'!" Potter called after him. Draco turned around, continuing to walk backwards.

"You'll be waiting a long time, then," he said.

"Why are you such an ungrateful prick?" Potter snapped.

Draco smirked, turning back around. "Because I don't intend to owe you anything," he said quietly.

First class of the day was Transfiguration, and a quick glance around the room confirmed Draco's suspicions. There were about seventeen students in there, exactly all of the seventh years from every House. Pansy, Blaise, Potter, Granger, Weasel, Weasellete, Thomas, and some Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs he'd never bothered to identify. The Weasellete was once again glued to Potter's arm, who seemed to be ignoring her. His gaze met Draco's the second he walked into the room. They stared at each other for less than a second, but it set Draco's heart thumping. He tried to ignore Potter, and went to sit beside Pansy, who gave him a worried glance. Draco gritted his teeth. He read about this happening; about wizards feeling a connection to those who had saved their life, but he'd hoped he would never have to experience it. He was finding the whole situation rather unacceptable.

Professor McGonagall strode in, and a few people raised surprised eyebrows. Professor McGonagall however, was all business. "I know that it's customary for the Headmistress to hire someone to fill her teaching post, however, in light of recent events, I will continue on as Transfiguration professor. Now, as you can see, due to the amount of students we have at the school this year, it only seemed reasonable to combine you all into one class. Any questions?"

Dead silence met her.

"Good. Today we will be studying how to turn inanimate objects into animals, the reverse of what you first learned. Now, turning an animal into an object isn't hard to grasp, since all you have to do is make something living not living. However, turning an inanimate object into a living organism. is considerably more complex, due to the nature of living organisms. You have to have an in-depth comprehension of the way living organisms work. It's something that Muggles call Organismal Biology, and we will spend the next two months studying it. And we must study hard. This field is something most Muggles spend several years trying to become experts in." Small groans escaped some of the students, and Professor McGonagall smiled slightly. "And of course this will be much harder than Muggle Biology, since you will be studying magical creatures as well as normal ones."

"I always knew that woman had a sadistic streak in her," Pansy muttered under her breath to Draco. "I'm tempted to piss her off and see if I can get her to spank me."

Draco suppressed a grin.

* * *

Two hours later, Draco staggered into the Great Hall for lunch, mind overflowing with words like 'Xylem, Phloem, circulatory system, etc.' Perhaps Pansy had been right.

Draco tucked into his Shepard's Pie, trying not to think too much about the lack of students in the Great Hall.

Potter came in a few moments later, followed by his band of admirers, and Draco struggled to keep his food down. They sat at the Gryffindor table, and the Weasellete latched onto him again. Draco smirked into his food. Potter only stayed at the table for a few minutes, scarfing down his food and leaving with what looked like apologies to his friends. He barely managed to make it out of there with his right arm, but no one followed him. Ah. A chance.

Draco finished quickly and grabbed his bag, heading out the door after Potter. He glanced around and spotted him heading down to the dungeons. Oh good. Maybe a Slytherin would have the bright idea to try to kill him and give Draco a chance.

Draco slipped quietly after Potter, trying to remain unnoticed. The second Potter saw him, they would fall back into childish arguments, and even the most determined assassin knew better than to come between Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy when they were fighting.

Draco was having a hard time following Potter, however. How the hell did one follow someone anyway? If Potter happened to turn around he'd run smack into Draco, who would have no place to hide. Potter disappeared down the stairs to Snape's classroom, and Draco followed. Perhaps a tad too quickly.

Draco tripped on his robes and fell down the stairs. His bag clashed down before him, and Potter whipped around.

"_Wingardium Leviosa!"_ Potter swished and flicked his wand, and Draco stared at Potter from upside down, cursing himself. Of all the stupid, freaking…great. Just great. Now Draco owed Potter five times over.

Potter raised his eyebrows at Draco, and levitated him to a spot right in front of him, then let him fall to a crashing heap on the floor. Draco scrambled up, breathing heavily and glaring at Potter.

"What did I tell you about saving my life?"

Potter ignored him. "Why are you following me?" he said.

Draco's glare intensified. "I'm not following you, you self-absorbed prat! In case you didn't notice, I have this class too."

"If you weren't following me, then why were you trying to be so quiet?"

Draco turned away from Potter and summoned his book bag. "Maybe I just didn't want to talk to you," he said. "Now, get out of my way."

Clearly this was the wrong thing to say.

Potter grabbed him by the neck and slammed him against the wall. Draco choked, and struggled to get away, but Potter didn't have six months of muscle deterioration to deal with, and had also sprouted to a couple of inches taller than Draco.

"Why are you such an ungrateful little shit?" Potter asked, reiterating his question from earlier. Despite the extremity of the situation, Potter's voice was fairly calm. He relaxed his hold on Draco's throat enough for him to speak.

"I never asked to be saved by you," Draco replied hoarsely, though really, now that he heard the words, they did sound deeply ungrateful and spoiled, something he was trying to move away from.

"And?" Potter prompted.

"And what?" Draco spat.

"What else? There's something else, and I'm not letting you go until you tell me what it is," Potter told him, still in that infuriatingly calm tone of voice.

Draco sputtered for a few moments, trying to come up with good excuse, something other than the truth. However, the lack of oxygen to his brain was severely depleting his ability to think properly. "Because now I owe you _five_ life debts, and I can't move on with my life until I repay them."

Potter raised his eyebrows again, and appeared to be genuinely curious. "Why not? I've never asked for anything but a thank you from you."

"Life debts don't work like that, you idiot," Draco said, incensed that Potter didn't know this. "If I don't save your life as many times as you've saved mine, my magic will stay linked to you and your well-being, and I'll be forced to come to your aid anytime you get into a life-threatening situation. Frankly, I'd rather not be dragged to you each time that happens. I just want to get it over with."

A smile was playing around the corners of Potter's mouth, and he seemed deeply amused. He relaxed his hold on Draco's neck, but pulled their bodies flush and leaned closer. "Now, that wasn't so hard, was it?" His hot breath blew over Draco's ear, and he shivered, acutely aware of how close they actually were. He could feel Potter's heart thumping against his own, one warm thigh in between Draco's legs, Potter's hair brushing against his cheek.

Then Potter was pulling away, slinging his bag back over his shoulder. He grinned at Draco. "I guess you'll just have to hope I manage to put myself in five life-threatening situations this semester." He walked closer to Draco again, who hadn't moved. Potter brushed Draco's hair down and straightened his robes. "Now, be a good boy and go to class," he said. With that, he turned around and continued down the hallway. It was only after he turned the corner that Draco allowed his eyes to fall shut, and sink down the wall. He buried his face in his hands, refusing to acknowledge the way his heart had pounded when Potter had told him to be a good boy.

_Fuck_.

**A/N:** I know, another update so soon! What is this craziness, you may ask? Dunno, guess I'm just getting into this story. Oh, yeah, by the way, forgot to mention, this will be a D/s fic with Top!Harry. Sorry if you already started getting into this story and that's not your thing. But please, read on! You may find that you enjoy it more than you think. Adios!

-CatJetRat

P.S. Reviews make my whole day happy.

P.P.S. Anyone interested in being my beta?


	4. Chapter 4

_You can only blame your problems on the world for so long before it all becomes the same old song…_

**Another Shot at Life**

**Chapter 4**

**Draco**

It was only when he heard the chatter and footsteps of his classmates that Draco picked himself up off the floor. His heartbeat had slowed, and Draco was heartily hoping that he didn't look like he'd just been slammed against the wall like a helpless little girl.

Pansy came around the corner, spotting him. "Oh, there you are!" she said. "Where have you been?"

"Just walking around," Draco said, avoiding her eyes, though he could almost feel her suspicious gaze. "Come on, you know how Severus can be."

"Yes, and I also know that you should call him Professor Snape," Pansy said, instantly latching onto this new topic. "Just because you two were shagging over the summer it doesn't mean—"

"W-what?" Draco sputtered. "We were most certainly not shagging!"

Pansy glared at him. "Well, then explain to me what you were doing at his house all that time. The only explanation that made sense to me was that you were shagging him."

"Pansy!" Draco cried. "What the hell? Why on earth would I be shagging Professor Snape?"

"Oh, it's 'Professor Snape' now, is it?" Pansy said haughtily.

Draco sighed in exasperation and turned around. He loved Pansy, he really did, but honestly, she had always felt like she was privy to every aspect of his life, and if he tried to keep anything at all from her, she'd make up a story a hundred times worse than anything that had actually happened.

Draco entered the classroom before anyone else. Severus was sitting on his desk, Potter standing beside him, and the two were conversing quietly. Draco blinked. Wait…what?

Severus looked up sharply when Draco entered the room, and Draco instantly felt the weight of his beetle-black eyes. Potter turned around too, and the next second, he could feel Potter's bright green eyes boring into him as well. Draco swallowed, feeling rather dizzy. He'd never noticed how intimidating those two could be together. Then again, he'd never had cause to notice such a thing before.

The two separated fairly quickly, however. Potter went to sit at his desk, and Snape staying at his, arms folded.

Draco swallowed nervously, and sat down as far away from Potter and Severus as he could manage. Pansy came in a few moments later and sat down beside him. He felt a great sense of relief when he realized she didn't intend to continue her interrogation of him. The rest of the class filed in shortly afterwards.

Severus waited until the entire class fell silent to speak. "While I am aware that most of you have been out of school for a year or more, I trust that you have spent the last two months preparing for this class day, as that was when I mailed out your instructions for what book to purchase. Therefore, we shall begin this term learning how to brew Polyjuice Potion. If you brew it correctly, you will be able to walk around for an hour looking like another person. Brew it incorrectly and you may be permanently disfigured. Instructions—" Severus swept his wand at the board behind him, and words appeared "—are on the board. You have one hour to begin the first phase of your potion, which should be more than enough. Begin."

Draco stood up and went over to the supply cupboard, cursing Severus silently. Merlin forbid dying should lighten him up a bit. Draco studied the necessary ingredients in his book while reaching up to pull down various supplies.

"You know, you could have figured out what ingredients you needed before coming to the cupboard."

Draco stiffened slightly, but otherwise did not react. Potter came up closer behind him.

"Will you hurry up?" he said.

"You can wait," Draco replied, attempting nonchalance.

A hand snaked up around the back of his neck and tightened. "You can either move faster, or I can throw you against the wall the way I did earlier. Which would you prefer?" Potter's voice was soft in his ear, but carried a firm threat.

Draco jerked away from him, and grabbed the rest of his ingredients as quickly as he could, and almost ran back to his table.

"Did you get everything?"

Draco's head snapped up. "What?" he said unintelligently.

Pansy looked from her book to him. "The ingredients," she said slowly, enunciating each word in gentle mockery. Then she noticed his flushed cheeks. "Draco, are you okay?"

"Ingredients," he said loudly. "Right here. What do we do?"

He resolutely did not look at Potter's subtle grin in his direction.

* * *

Being Quidditch Captain was definitely more work than it was worth, Draco decided, flopping down on his bed after muddy, vicious tryouts. One would think, given the fact that there were only fifteen students in Slytherin, that Draco would have more trouble finding players than turning them away, but no. Every Slytherin had tried out, and it was all Draco could do to prevent outright bloodshed. In the end, he had seven team members, including himself, that he was somewhat happy with. Pansy, much to his abject astonishment, had decided that she needed to be on the Quidditch team. She tried out for Chaser and easily beat the second and third years trying out, joining two other sixth years. Still, Draco had tried to persuade her not to join the team, though the best reason he could come up with was that she'd get dirty. Pansy however, was insistent, for whatever reason. It wasn't so much that she was bad, because in reality, she really wasn't. It was that she always seemed to be able to make him feel like a silly little boy, and that wasn't really a feeling one needed when they were trying to lead a team to victory.

Draco ran a hand through his hair and grimaced at the feeling of dried mud. He would need to start training the team immediately starting tomorrow. Their first match against Gryffindor was in two weeks. Technically, Draco should have started the tryouts weeks ago, but he had been rather occupied trying to find a way to save Harry Potter's life.

Almost three weeks had passed since Potter had cornered him in the dungeons, and despite numerous late night stalkings of the man, Draco was no closer to evening the score than he had been at the beginning of the year. Fortunately, he had managed to avoid getting saved by Potter again, so his life debts stayed solidly at five owed to Potter. Still, Potter had caught him following him twice, and had smiled at Draco in that infuriating way each time, before disappearing under his Invisibility Cloak, and really now, that should be considered cheating.

Draco had also seen Severus and Potter talking on four separate occasions, which was rather disturbing. Draco was simply relieved that talking was all they were doing. The last thing he needed to deal with was the memory of Severus and Potter snogging imprinted on his brain, and he firmly told himself that the sick feeling he got in his stomach at the thought was simply revulsion, nothing else.

Draco sighed and sat up, brushing dirt from his hair. His greatest wish now, other than a shower, was that his Beaters would be able to knock Potter off his broom during the match, and Draco would be able to swoop in and save him.

If wishes were hippogriffs…

* * *

"For the last time, Thompson, you're supposed to hit the Bludger _away_ from Zabini, not towards him!" If Draco hadn't been so furious, he might have been near tears. He'd been training his team for two weeks straight, and while Pansy and Blaise had shown considerable improvement, the rest of his team were incapable of playing against someone. Sure, they did fine on their own, but the second Draco tried to pit them against each other, they managed to spectacularly fail, every time.

Draco rubbed his temples. "Okay, that's enough for one day. We meet at the pitch tomorrow at eight thirty for the match against Gryffindor." Draco tried not to let his irritation shine through, but he barely felt that he was holding on to his emotions.

He waited until the rest of the team was off the field before landing. The last thing his team needed was for him to explode on them. Then again, that might do the trick….

Draco walked off the field, debating which leadership tactics would work best on his team.

"Excited about the match tomorrow?"

Draco allowed his eyes to close for a brief second before opening them again. "You know that you're not supposed to spy on Slytherin Quidditch practices, Potter. I should report you," Draco threatened, but his voice had no real bite to it.

Potter shrugged. "So report me." He grinned, and his smile nearly blinded Draco.

"Unless you think you're about to be in life-threatening danger from someone other than me, I suggest you leave me alone," Draco said, and walked past him off the field.

Calloused fingers threaded through Draco's soft blond hair and yanked him back.

"Potter!" Draco exclaimed, astonished. "What in Merlin's name do you think you're doing?"

"Hush, Draco," Potter replied softly, pressing a finger to Draco's lips. Draco was bent at an awkward angle, half leaning on Potter, and feeling strangely defenseless. He'd never realized how incapacitating grabbing a person's hair was.

"What do you want?" Draco asked, rather desperately.

"I want you to be polite to me," Potter responded calmly. "I've saved your life five times over. I think that entitles me to a few manners from you."

"I plan on evening that score as soon as I can," Draco snarled, trying to pull away, but Potter's grip on his hair remained firm. Potter's next words were amused.

"I'm sure you do. Provided that you can surpass the rate at which I'm saving your life."

Draco could only scowl at him, unable to deny the truth of the statement.

"Until you do," Potter continued. "You will show me respect."

"And if I don't?" Draco said, in a somewhat petulant voice.

"Then you will be punished."

Draco's heart nearly stopped at those words, and he found himself unable to speak.

"Do you understand me?"

Two parts of Draco were battling at the moment. One part wanted to elbow Potter in the gut and make a break for it. The other part…the other part wanted to keep feeling the way Potter made him feel. Fear tinged with excitement, throbbing with…desire, though for what, he couldn't quite say. Potter's fingers tightened in Draco's hair.

"Draco."

Draco swallowed, and, as if from far away, heard himself whisper, "I understand."

Potter released his hair, moving his fingers down to grasp the back of Draco's neck. "Good boy," Potter said softly, and Draco's heart all but slammed into his ribcage. Then the hand was gone, and Potter disappeared. Draco took a few deep, steadying breaths, then grabbed his broom, and went back up to the castle.

* * *

The morning of the match dawned on a sleep-deprived, slightly crazed Draco Malfoy. He'd spent all night trying to understand exactly what had occurred the night before with Potter, and had come up with no answers. He was almost tempted to ask Pansy, but knew better. The second he involved her, he'd hear about nothing else.

Draco slipped out bed, trying to will his headache away. He could go to Madam Pomfrey and get a potion, but knew that his team mates would inevitably find out that he'd been to her, and the last thing he needed was for his team to think that their Captain was unable to lead them. Draco was slightly annoyed by how responsible he felt for the well-being of the Slytherin team. No longer could he skip matches on a whim. Besides, they needed to beat Gryffindor. _Draco_ needed to defeat _Potter_.

After a quick shower, Draco pulled on his robes and headed down to the Great Hall for some breakfast. It was only seven A.M., and the match didn't start until nine.

Draco entered the Great Hall and headed for the empty Slytherin table. No students were up this early on a Saturday, though there were a few teachers in residence, including Severus. Draco only thought about it for a moment before going up to the Head table.

"Yes, Draco?" Severus said mildly, looking up from the Morning Prophet.

"Professor…I was wondering, that is, if it's not too much trouble, I mean—"

"Spit it out, boy!" Severus snapped, quickly losing his patience with Draco's stammering.

"What are you and Potter talking about?" Draco said in a rush. Severus returned to his paper.

"That is between myself and Harry Potter," Severus said, in a tone that brooked no argument.

"Yes, but—"

"Boy, if you do not sit down, I promise you that you will not like what I do next." Severus said coldly, quickly reducing Draco to a recalcitrant three year old with a few words. Draco grit his teeth, and turned from Head table, now sleep-deprived, frustrated, and extremely curious.

Draco spotted Potter entering the Great Hall, alone for once, and his heart rate instantly quickened. How the hell could he play a match against the man when the mere sight of him made Draco oddly queasy?

Draco grabbed a few pieces of toast and fled the Great Hall, pretending not to notice two pairs of eyes on him.

By the time his team mates arrived in the locker room, Draco was already fully dressed, and had managed to calm down some.

"All right, people. I know this may seem a little intimidating, going up against Gryffindor in our first match. But don't forget, Potter's lost some of his best players this year, and Zabini is an excellent Keeper." Zabini accepted the praise silently, and Pansy, who was behind everyone and therefore not visible to anyone but him, gave him an encouraging smile. "All you lot need to do is try to keep Gryffindor from scoring while I find the Snitch."

"But Captain," the third-year Beater named Thompson spoke up. "Isn't it true that you've never beat Potter at Quidditch?" The rest of the team looked up at Draco expectantly.

"Only because his broom was much better than mine," Draco said, struggling to stay in control and not murder Thompson. "But since I acquired a Firebolt over the summer, I don't really see it being a problem, especially since mine is newer."

Most of the team nodded at this, seeming to accept that response, though he could see Pansy's eyes darken slightly.

They dressed, and strode out into the cloudy day. It didn't look like it was going to rain, which was good, but it was cloudy enough to cover the glare of the sun. Excellent conditions.

The Gryffindor team met them on the pitch, Madam Hooch standing between them.

"Now I want a good, _clean_ game," she said, directing her comment at the Slytherin team. "Captains, shake hands."

Draco went to meet Potter, who held out his hand. Draco shook Potter's hand and tried to drop it quickly, but Potter's fingers tightened around his. "Good luck, Draco," he said with a small smile.

"Yeah, you too, Potter," Draco replied, wanting to end the encounter as quickly as possible. Potter's smile twisted.

"You really don't need to call me that," he said.

"I really do," Draco said, and yanked his hand away from Potter. He turned back to his team and mounted his Firebolt, trying to ignore the strange look Potter was giving him.

The whistle blew, and fourteen brooms shot into the air. The game had begun.

It was just as disastrous as Draco had feared it would be. Twenty minutes into the game and Gryffindor was already up fifty points to zero. The only reason it wasn't more was because Blaise had been able to stop ten tries.

Draco flew around above the general playing field, casting his eyes about urgently for that glint of gold. If he caught the Snitch soon, they could still win the game, though the Gryffindor Chasers were doing everything in their power to change that.

He spotted Harry on the other side of field, scanning the air. _Not this time, Potter_, Draco thought gleefully, spotting the Snitch lingering near one of the goalposts. Draco tore after it instantly, and not a half-second later, Potter saw what he was doing. But he was too far away, and Draco was closing in on it fast. Draco stretched out his hand, and could feel the tiny wings fluttering over his fingertips…

SLAM!

A Bludger caught him around the middle and threw him off his broom. He was falling towards the ground, and barely had time to appreciate the irony of dying playing Quidditch instead of fighting in a war before another object crashed into him. Warm arms encircled him, and a second later they were landing roughly on the grass, falling in a heap on the ground. Draco stared up at the sky, refusing to look, to acknowledge what had just happened. But after a moment, he spoke.

"At this rate, Potter, we might as well get married, because I'm clearly never leaving you."

Potter's laughter echoed through the air, made better only by the tiny golden ball still crushed in Draco's palm.

One hour later, Draco emerged from the shower in the Slytherin locker room. His team was undoubtedly still celebrating in the Slytherin common room, though Draco knew he would much rather go to the Hog's Head and down a bottle of Firewhiskey than 'celebrate'.

He was drying himself off when he heard Potter's voice emerge from the entrance of the locker room.

"I've never met a guy who spends that much time in the shower," he said with amusement.

"I've never met a Gryffindor with as much difficulty respecting the personal space of a Slytherin, so I guess we're even," Draco said, somewhat crankily.

"On that front," Potter smirked.

"Go away, Potter."

No sooner had the words left his mouth than was Potter yanking his hair back again. Draco winced, hyper aware of the fact that he was still naked while Potter was fully clothed. His head was bent backwards, exposing his long pale neck, and he couldn't help but feel like prey to a lion.

Suddenly Potter's hand twisted, and he bent Draco over the sink.

SMACK!

Draco inhaled sharply as Potter's hand connected to his behind in one harsh move.

"Wha—what the hell?" Draco attempted to snarl, but it came out as more of a whimper.

"You are such a snotty. Little. Prick." Potter said coolly, accentuating each word with a smack to Draco's arse. "You owe your life to me six times over now, and you still strut about the school like you own the place. You are so lucky that I didn't let them take you to prison."

"I _was_ in prison!" Draco objected, but Potter shook his head.

"No, you were in a holding cell. That's very different from prison. Do you know what happens to boys like you in prison?" Potter inquired.

Draco shook his head, eyes unwillingly wide.

"You have to become someone's bitch to survive. You have to service them whenever they want, however they want." Potter's voice was harsh, and Draco accidentally let out a tiny moan. Potter's expression in the mirror went from cold to surprised. "But maybe you'd like that. Maybe you'd like being someone's whore twenty four seven."

"No—" Draco protested weakly, but his erection pressing against the sink betrayed him. His face burned with humiliation when he realized that Potter could see it. "Potter…please…." His voice trailed off, and he concentrated on trying to breathe.

"Please what?" Potter said.

"Just…just…." But Draco couldn't formulate a request, couldn't figure out what to ask of him. Potter wrapped a hand around Draco's throat, and pulled him until he was standing upright, back pressed flush against Potter, who trailed his other hand down Draco's chest, purposefully stopping at his navel.

"When you figure out what you want, Draco, come ask me for it, and, if you're a good boy, I'll consider your request."

"Where do I find you?" Draco whispered.

"I'm sure you can figure it out. Until then, you are forbidden from touching yourself at all. Do you understand?"

Draco's eyes fluttered closed, and he wondered when exactly he had gone insane.

"Yes," he said. Potter's fingers tightened.

"Yes what?"

Draco's eyes shot open, and he stared around in confusion for a moment, unsure of exactly what he was supposed to say.

"Yes…Harry?" he guessed. He could feel Potter smiling against his neck.

"You should call me that as a general rule, yes, but I'm looking for something else." Realization gripped Draco, and his cheeks burned again, but he forced himself to say it.

"Yes, Sir."

Harry turned Draco around until they were facing, and gently put pressure on Draco's shoulders. Draco sank to his knees, and felt he might explode with the emotions rushing through him. He almost thought Harry would ask him service him orally, but no. Harry leaned down and pressed a kiss to Draco's forehead.

"That's a good boy," he said. Draco leaned into his touch, unable to explain why everything happening felt so good, and so right. Why his desire for whatever this was was easily surpassing his hatred of Harry.

Harry stroked Draco's hair back and left the locker room. Draco began to shake as soon as he left, and curled up into a ball on the floor, confusion eating his guts.

What the hell was happening to him?

**A/N:** All right, I'm writing them as fast as I can, and I'm really enjoying this story, but I can't promise an update every day. Tell me what you think? Adios!

-CatJetRat

P.S. Still looking for a beta, and reviews still make my day happy.


	5. Chapter 5

_And I want it so bad I'd shoot the sunshine into my veins…_

**Another Shot at Life**

**Chapter 5**

**Draco**

"So I've decided to seduce Potter."

Draco was torn from his preoccupied, hazy thoughts by this rather abrupt and unpleasant sentence. Even worse, it cam from Pansy's lips.

"What? Why?" he demanded, looking up from the Transfiguration textbook he had been pretending to study.

Pansy shrugged, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Because he's sexy, and nearly unattainable. I thought about going after his girlfriend, but she's a bit too revolting even for me. Have you seen the way she hangs off Potter?" Pansy gave a little affected shudder. "If there's one thing I've learned in my years as a temptress, it's that you don't stick your dick in the crazy, or it'll never let go. In my case, don't stick your strap on in the crazy, but still, same idea."

Pansy was deeply fond of following whatever train of thought she happened to have at any given moment, and thus it was practically impossible to comprehend everything she was saying. Still, Draco gave it his best.

"So you want Potter because you can't have him, and his girlfriend is too stalkerish for you?" he guessed.

"Isn't that what I just said?" Pansy frowned. Draco rolled his eyes.

"Potter would never go for you," he said.

"Why not?" Pansy demanded.

"Because Potter doesn't like skanky, dumb bitches," Draco snarked. Pansy had the gall to look offended. Draco clarified. "He thinks you are the way you try to appear. You might have a chance if you were yourself, but even then, I doubt it."

"Really?" Pansy was intrigued. "Why is that?"

Draco shrugged, hoping Pansy didn't notice the heat spreading across his face. "Dunno." He made a great show of checking the clock on the wall. "Wow, it's late. Good night, Pansy." He fled the common room before Pansy had time to protest.

Draco entered his empty dormitory and shut the door in relief. He rubbed a hand across his face roughly. Eventually Pansy was going to notice that something was up, but he hoped it was later rather than sooner. He really wasn't looking forward to that conversation.

Two weeks had passed since Draco's encounter with Potter in the locker room, and Draco had so far avoided any one-on-one situations with the man. Regrettably, however, his obsession with Potter had grown, and honestly, it was unhealthy to spend that much time thinking about someone he hated. Draco spent more time in class glaring at the back of Potter's head than he did actually paying attention. To look at Potter's normal behavior, he was fun-loving, gracious, and kind. There was nothing in there to indicate the man that had yanked Draco's hair back and spanked him over the locker room sink. Then again, Draco wasn't certain why he should be surprised. Potter had always rather disliked Draco and regarded him a spoilt little boy.

Still, Potter was a fool if he thought Draco could be ordered about like a house-elf or some submissive little _girl_. Therefore, Draco had completely disregarded Harry's (Potter's, _Potter's)_ instructions about touching himself, and had jerked off several times a day over the last two weeks (never mind that he had done it while thinking about the locker room).

Occasionally Potter would shoot him an enquiring glance in class or in the Great Hall, but at these times Draco would determinedly not look at him and struggle to appear completely satisfied with his existence. He didn't need Potter at all. Didn't need his strong hands in his hair, or his calm voice murmuring instructions into his ear. He didn't long to be on his knees, naked in front of Potter again, to feel his lips against his forehead and the gently whispered "Good boy". No. He needed none of these things.

Three weeks since the locker room incident and Draco thought he might be going mad. Now Potter didn't look at him anymore, didn't say anything to him, didn't pick any fights with him. Draco had even gone so far as to call him "Scarhead" one night when he saw him in the hall. Potter didn't even look at him.

At this point, Draco had no clue what the hell he was supposed to do. He didn't know if he wanted to interact with Potter at all, and even if he did want to interact with him, he had no idea how to go about it. Besides, even if you put all that aside, there was still the matter of the unpaid life debts.

In the meantime, Draco was taking out his aggression on his team, yelling himself hoarse during every practice, and reducing his fourth-year beater, Emma Radcliff, to tears.

Pansy snapped at three and a half weeks.

"All right, that's it!"

Pansy slammed down her books in front of Draco in the library, earning herself a scandalized look from Madam Pince, which she ignored.

"You've been sulking and throwing tantrums like a hormonal third-year for over three weeks now, and we're all sick of it. Out with it! Who is she?" Draco reflected that he'd never seen Pansy's face reach quite that shade of red before, and knew that she wouldn't be satisfied with anything but the truth. Ah, well, he'd seen this coming for a while.

"Potter," he replied simply. At this, Pansy seemed to deflate. She sank tiredly into a seat at the table.

"Of course. You couldn't have just fallen for Blaise, or that fifth year girl who keeps making eyes at you. It had to be Potter."

"I haven't fallen for him!" Draco said sharply.

"Really?" Pansy said sardonically. "Then why are you acting like this?"

"It's…complicated," Draco said, shifting his eyes back to his Potions textbook.

"Which is exactly why you should have come to me first instead of making everyone miserable while you try to figure it out for yourself. Honestly, boys should never be allowed to figure out complex emotional matters for themselves. They always do it badly, and come to the wrong conclusion in twice the time it would take a girl to figure it out correctly."

"Not all boys," Draco muttered, starting to feel cranky.

"_Yes_," Pansy emphasized. "All _boys_. Not necessarily all men."

She cleared her throat, and glanced around, before casting a silencing charm for privacy.

"So what exactly happened?"

Reluctantly, Draco told her, starting with the scene outside of Snape's classroom to the incident in the locker room, to his avoidance of Potter and then occasional outbursts.

"And now I have no idea what the hell to do. Mostly because I don't really understand what happened," Draco finished.

Pansy closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Draco scooted his chair away from her, because that was what she did whenever she felt the strong urge to hit someone.

"Draco," she said without opening her eyes. "Do you ever listen when I talk?"

"Not usually," Draco responded truthfully.

"Of course you don't." Pansy took another deep breath, and opened her eyes. "Draco, do you know what BDSM is?"

Draco squinted a little, thinking. "Is that when people tie each other up and beat each other for fun?"

Pansy closed her eyes again, and Draco started to feel a little nervous, like he was trying to take a test he hadn't prepared for.

"BDSM stands for Bondage and Discipline, Domination and submission, and Sadism and Masochism. Potter was exerting Dominance over you, and disciplining you for your spoiled, bratty behavior. Granted, he was a little unorthodox about it; most people have long negotiations before they do that sort of thing, as well as a safe word, but nonetheless, that's what was happening. You responded in a submissive manner to certain things he did, and so he took a lucky guess."

"I have never been submissive in any way to him before!" Draco said hotly.

"Draco," and he was relieved to note that her voice was now amused. "You are incredibly submissive to Potter. You do everything in your power to get him to notice you and respond to you; you always have. Now he's finally paying attention, and you want it so bad you can hardly stand it. You just don't know how to ask for it."

"I do not want his attention," Draco said, but the words sounded empty even to him. Pansy continued as if he hadn't spoken.

"Your way forward, however, is very clear. He told you what to do. He said to come to him when you know what you want. So figure out how to phrase it, and go to him."

Draco shook his head. "This is ridiculous, Pansy. I'm not submissive in any sense of the word."

Now Pansy did actually slap him. Her hand cracked across his cheek and he sat there for a moment, stunned. She raised an eyebrow and waited.

"What was that for?" he asked, when he finally regained the ability to speak.

"To prove a point," she said, and her voice was almost gentle. "If you were Dominant, or even vanilla, you would have gotten pissed. Not sat there and asked me why I hit you. Your automatic response was to assume you'd earned it in some way. Honey, you're a submissive as sure as you are a Pureblood."

Pansy turned to her bag and reached into it. She pulled out an orange book entitled "The New Bottoming Book" and handed it to him. He stared down at the cover in confusion.

"I was reading it to get some perspective on how submissives might feel and react to certain situations," she explained. "But I think you might find it a tad more useful than I did."

Draco swallowed, but remained silent. Pansy patted him on the arm.

"But…" Draco found his voice, barely. "But I thought you'd be…I mean, you made that comment about Professor McGonagall spanking you…."

Pansy grinned. "I'm mostly Dominant, but I can enjoy some student-teacher interactions at times."

Draco nodded, and could feel an odd lump in his throat. "What if I don't want to be submissive?" His voice sounded like a whiney boy even to him.

Pansy reached out and stroked his hair. "Sweetie, you don't have to be anything you don't want to be. But you also shouldn't deny yourself the experiences that would make you happiest in life. Some people are Dominant, submissive, and vanilla, and it's a mistake for any of them to deny the truth of who they are. This isn't a bad thing, especially not with the interest Potter's shown in you. Just—just read the book, and try to actually negotiate with Potter instead of running headfirst into something, okay?"

"Okay," Draco said softly. Pansy smiled at him, collected her books, and left.

An overwhelming emotion was rising in Draco at the moment, one he was barely able to control. At first he couldn't pinpoint it, but then he realized what it was. _Longing_. Now that he was actually able to admit it to himself, he realized what he'd wanted so desperately these last few weeks. To be on his knees in front of Potter, to service him, to be _disciplined_, to do whatever Potter wanted without question. For whatever reason, despite his intense dislike of the man, or indeed, perhaps because of it, Draco wanted Potter's dominance.

All thoughts of negotiations and books to be read flew out the window, and Draco knew that he needed to find Potter as quickly as he possibly could.

Draco threw his books into his bag and tore out of the library, knocking over some library books in the process and earning a horrified shriek from Madam Pince.

Draco dropped off his bag in his common room before leaving for Gryffindor tower. He was only halfway there when he ran into the Golden trio (or quartet, at this point).

"H-Harry!" he gasped. Granger and the two Weasleys looked at him in sheer astonishment, but Draco ignored them. He only had eyes for Harry, whose face was impassive.

"Yes, Draco?" he inquired.

"Can I talk to you? Alone," Draco added, glancing at the others.

"No he can't," the Weasellete butted in. "Go away, you slimy ferret."

Draco longed to snarl at her, but he bit his tongue and looked to Harry, who was watching him carefully.

"Lead the way," Harry said after a moment. The Weasellete looked furious, and grabbed Harry by the arm.

"What are you doing?" she hissed. Harry carefully took her hand and pulled it off of his arm.

"Ginny, we aren't dating anymore, and you have no say in my comings and goings." Harry turned back to Draco. "Like I said, lead the way."

Draco allowed himself a moment of quiet triumph at the devastated look on her face, before turning and leading Harry into a deserted classroom. Draco shut the door, locked it, and cast a silencing charm. He turned to Harry, who was standing there expectantly with his arms crossed. Now that he actually had Harry on his own, Draco was at a loss for words. Then he remembered his thoughts after his discussion with Pansy.

Draco fell to his knees, trembling all over with an intense fear of rejection. "Please, sir," he said in a shaking voice, concentrating on Harry's shoes. "I want you to dominate me."

Harry walked closer to him, and Draco sat there, trying to be as still as possible. "Are you sure?" Harry asked softly.

"_Yes_," Draco said desperately. "Please."

"Very well, then."

Suddenly those fingers were in his hair again, and oh Merlin, yes. Draco leaned into the touch, and Harry summoned a chair. He sat upon it, and Draco buried his face in Harry's thigh, sighing contentedly as Harry continued to stroke his hair.

_Happy._

**A/N: **I would make this chapter longer, but I really should go to bed, as I have class in the morning. I'll see what I can do about uploading another chapter tomorrow, but no promises. Thanks to everyone for your lovely reviews. They feed my hungry muse and pull chapters from me faster. By the way, some one noted that Harry being a very aggressive Dominant isn't true to his character in the book, but I disagree. From what I've read of Harry's interactions with Draco, he doesn't take any shit from him, or honestly, from anyone else. I could easily see Harry discovering his Dominant side after all the bullshit he dealt with in the war. Anyway, just thought I'd clarify. Adios!

-CatJetRat

P.S. Seriously, _no one_ wants to be my beta?


	6. Chapter 6

_Hell or glory, I don't want anything in between…_

**Another Shot At Life**

**Chapter 6**

**Draco**

Draco had no idea how long they stayed like that; him on his knees and Harry's hands threading through his blond hair. The only thing he knew for certain was that if it never ended, he would die happy.

Unfortunately, the little voice in the back of his head, the one asking him what the hell he was doing, stopped being so little and started screaming at him.

_What the hell are you doing? He's your enemy, for Merlin's sake! This is probably just some horrible prank he's trying to play on you. And if it's not, don't forget that you can't stand him! What are you doing getting all melty under his touch?_

Try as he might to ignore the voice, it was not going away, and Draco was gradually becoming more and more tense. Harry's hand curled in his hair, and he turned Draco's head until it was facing his. He traced his hand down Draco's face and came to rest gently on his jaw line.

"Draco."

"What?" It was out of his mouth before he'd even realized he'd spoken, a combination of the fear inside of him and the irritation with being moved from his comfortable position. Harry's expression hardened, and his hand tightened on Draco's jaw.

"When I address you, you will respond with 'Yes, sir'. You will never again say 'what' to me in response to anything I say to you."

Draco swallowed, nervousness freezing the blood in his veins, and he found that he could hardly move. "Yes, Sir," he said in a shaking voice. Harry frowned.

"Why are you trembling?" Harry's voice was gentle again. Draco shook his head.

"I just…this is so new and I don't know how to behave, and you're acting so _different!_ In all the years I've known you, you've never been like this before, Sir." Draco looked carefully at Harry's face, trying to read him, but for some reason, he found he couldn't anymore. As best he could tell, Harry seemed to be giving his question serious consideration.

"I don't know," he answered at last. "Something about you just brings this out in me, I guess. But it isn't just you." Harry sighed and rubbed his hand across his forehead. "I suppose there are only so many people you can watch die before it starts to affect you. I cherish life a lot more now, and I take it more seriously. There was a time when I would have ignored these feelings, and hidden from them, the way I did with my feelings about Ginny, but…it just seems so silly to do that now. When I permanently broke things off with Ginny, I didn't agonize about it at all. I just knew that I didn't want her anymore, and I didn't see the point in pretending to. When I realized that I felt this way about you, I didn't ignore it. I thought about it, figured it out, and here we are. The war just helped me realize that wasting time pretending not to feel a certain way is pointless." Harry gave a short, humorless laugh. "I think what I'm trying to say is that I grew up. I'm not a child anymore, and I'm not trying to be."

"So…you're like this with everyone?" Draco asked, ignoring the sinking feeling in his stomach.

This time, Harry's laughter was genuine. "Merlin, no," he grinned. "Ron would _kill_ me if I acted this way with him, and I'm pretty sure most other people would too. Besides, I wouldn't want to. I like being this way with you because I _can_." Harry's other hand clenched in Draco's hair, and he gasped. Harry smiled. "And you like it. You have no idea how amusing you are to play with."

"You—you're playing with me?" Draco asked, worst fears packed up and ready to be confirmed.

"In a way," Harry conceded. "I enjoy doing things to you and seeing the reaction I get. You react like a spoiled but confused little boy. I don't know why, but I really like it."

"I am not a spoiled little boy!" Draco could feel warmth spreading across his cheeks, and knew that he probably looked rather pink to Harry, but he didn't care. He was pissed. What right did Potter have to go around toying with his emotions?

Harry's grin broadened, and if anything, this just made Draco angrier. "You have no right to do those things to me!" Draco spat.

Immediately both of Harry's hands left Draco, and he stood up and walked around him. Draco fell on his hands and was left bewildered.

"W-where are you going?" Draco stammered.

Harry shrugged, and his eyes were shut-off. "I'm certainly not going to force this on you. I would never do that to someone. If you want this, fine. If you don't, then stop wasting our time." He reached for the door handle.

"Wait!" Draco cried. Harry paused, and looked back at him. "I—I don't know what I'm doing here," Draco confessed. "Please—just stay. Tell me what to do."

Harry cocked his head thoughtfully. "Come here," he said after a moment. Draco started to stand up. "No," Harry said flatly. "On your hands and knees."

Feeling like he might die with the indignity of it all, Draco sank back to his knees. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to suppress the tears that threatened to spill from his eyes. If there was one thing he would never do, it would be to cry in front of Potter. It didn't matter how confused and lost and turned on he was. There would be no crying. Period.

When Draco felt that his emotions were sufficiently under control, he placed his hands on the floor. Eyes still tightly shut, he placed one hand in front of the other, moving his knees with his hand movements. He was certain that at any moment, the Weasel, Weasellete, and Granger would burst in with the whole school in tow to laugh at him, and Harry would declare that it had all been one massive joke to boost moral.

Draco opened his eyes long enough to check his distance, and came to a stop with relief. His whole body seemed to be one tense muscle. Harry knelt down and ran his hand down Draco's back. He leaned closer and spoke softly into Draco's ear.

"If you truly wish to offer me your submission, two things must happen. First, you must abandon any preconceived notions you had about me and my intentions towards you. I will not betray your trust, or do anything to you that you do not previously agree to. But for this to happen, I must have your trust first. Do you think you can trust me?"

"I don't know," Draco said honestly.

"What's holding you back?" Harry asked.

Draco thought about it for a moment. What _was_ holding him back? In the last year, Harry had saved his life six times, and, on more than one occasion, tried to extend the hand of friendship. Why was he having such a hard time with this?

"Because I don't think I deserve this," Draco realized out loud. "Because I've done so many bad things, and I have a hard time understanding why you would want to give me the time of day. I guess part of me thinks that the only reason you're doing this is to play some big joke on me."

Harry yanked Draco's chin up, and Draco looked into burning green eyes. "I would _never_ do that to you. Is that clear? _Never_. I would never do that to anyone, even if I thought they did deserve it. You most certainly don't. If I thought you did deserve to have something that cruel happen to you, I never would have spoken up at your trial. I would have just left you there to rot. But I stand by what I said. I think you are a good person at your core, Draco. You're spoiled and arrogant, yes, but evil? Not by a long shot."

Draco wasn't sure whether or not he was supposed to find Harry's little speech comforting. He remained silent.

Harry stood up, and pulled Draco's face back into his welcoming and warm body. Harry hand started stroking his face again, and, despite the fact that it made Draco happier than he could express for whatever reason, he was starting to wonder if he resembled a giant cat, or something.

"Do you think you can trust me now?" For the first time, Harry seemed almost uncertain, and, oddly enough, that was reassuring.

"I think I can try," Draco said. Harry's mouth twisted into a half-smile.

"I can work with that. Now, one other thing needs to happen. I also need you to follow orders without question."

"Why?" Draco asked instantly. Harry laughed, and Draco turned pink.

"Because things are going to get real old real fast if you question every order that comes out of my mouth," Harry explained. "This ties into the trust thing. I need you to trust that I won't ask you to do anything that will overtly negatively affect you unless you're being punished." _Punished?_

Harry saw the quizzical look on his face and nodded, his expression turning serious. "Yes, Draco, there will be punishments for when you misbehave. If I ask you to do something, or behave in a certain manner, you will be punished. The punishments will be adjusted according to what you've done and what I learn about you as time passes. I may start out punishing you one way and find that a different punishment is more effective. I once knew a Mistress who tried every form of corporal punishment possible on her slave, and none of it was effective because the slave was a masochist. She then realized that the best way of punishing her slave was not to pay her extra attention, but to ignore her entirely. She ignored her slave for a week after a bout of disobedience, and the act was never repeated again."

Draco's blood ran cold at the thought of being ignored by Harry. The last few weeks had been hell, and Draco had no desire to repeat them. He could easily see how being ignored would be an effective punishment. Amusingly, he hadn't cared one whit about not seeing Harry for six months, but the second he knew how Harry was capable of making him feel, Draco could feel his absence as acutely as the loss of all his innards.

Draco tried to school his features into nonchalance, hoping Harry hadn't discerned the horrified expression on his face. Fortunately, Harry didn't seem to notice. "Are you okay with the idea of punishment?" Harry asked.

Draco wanted to say no, he truly did. But he would be lying if he said that the idea of Harry bending him over the sink and spanking him again didn't make him rock hard. "I—yes," he said. Harry raised one eyebrow. "Sir," Draco added hastily. It felt a little silly, like he was talking to a teacher, but at the same time, it made him feel a strange rush of warmth. It felt even better when Harry smiled at him again.

"Good boy," Harry said, stroking his hair again. A dog, perhaps. A giant, blond dog. Draco suppressed a smirk, but Harry spotted it anyway.

"What is it?"

"You're always stroking my hair. It makes me feel like I'm your pet," Draco said.

Harry's grin returned. "Some people like that," he said. "But if it bothers you I can find a different form of positive reinforcement."

"Please don't." Draco leaned into Harry's hand. "I really do like it. This all just seems a little absurd to me. It feels right, yes, but everything I've ever seen indicates that this is not how two people behave with each other."

Harry nodded understandingly. "You may find that your understanding of 'normal' will undergo many changes in the near future." Harry studied Draco's face closely. "Do you have any questions? Negotiation only occurs once, so if you want to say anything, say it now. After today, unless we're with other people, you are to assume that you will not speak unless spoken to. If I wish to change that rule in the future, I will. But considering your penchant for disrespectful behavior, you will be on speech restriction for the foreseeable future."

Draco felt another jolt of fear. What should he ask that he hadn't yet thought of? There didn't seem to be anything important, except…

"You said, 'unless we're with other people'," Draco remembered. "What did you mean by that?"

"I meant when we're around our classmates, friends, family, or teachers," Harry clarified.

"What are we going to tell them?" Draco had a sudden, rather vivid image of himself kneeling by Potter's chair in class, for the whole world to see.

"That we've decided to put our differences behind us and become friends, in light of everything that's happened in the war."

Draco burst out laughing. "You really think they'll go for that? Don't you think it'll seem a little suspicious that this is happening over a year after we won the war, and everyone's already seen us fighting?"

"No, I don't think so. I mean, it's the truth, more or less," Harry replied with a shrug. "And in public, I want you to act normal, like we're friends. Most people wouldn't understand what we're doing, and I would rather avoid dealing with their reactions."

Draco nodded. "That makes sense. But, I mean, wouldn't people be expecting us to have a slightly snarky relationship?"

Harry grimaced. "Merlin, you're right. Bollocks! Well, I'll have to figure something out. Maybe I'll just tell people you're being polite to me because of the number of times I've saved your life."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Yeah, like they're going to believe that."

In a flash, Harry's hand was yanking Draco's head back by his hair, and his face was right next to Draco's ear.

"Careful, boy," he said sharply, and Draco shuddered at the belittling term. "If you disrespect me like that again, you will be punished."

"How will I know—"

"Don't even try to pretend that you're disrespectful without thinking about it," Harry cut him off.

"Yes, Sir," Draco responded, in an almost humble tone.

Harry relaxed his grip on Draco's hair and smoothed it back down again. "Do you have any more questions, Draco?"

None that Draco could think of, and he said as much. He leaned into Harry's thigh again and tried to ignore the nagging feeling that he was forgetting something crucial.

"Okay, then. We'll start with just a few rules, and build on them from there. First, you will not touch yourself without my permission. I now own your orgasms. I already mentioned the one about not speaking unless spoken to unless we're around other people. You will each a full breakfast, lunch and dinner, no matter what. You will also not speak to anyone else about this; it's between you and me. I won't tell anyone either."

"What about Pansy?" Draco asked. "I've already been speaking to her about it; she's going to want to know what happened."

Harry looked rather displeased, but conceded with a nod of his head. "All right, then. You may discuss the basics with her, but no intimate details. We will meet every night at nine in the Room of Requirement…oh." For Draco had quivered slightly. "Right, of course. Well, Draco, I'll try to make the room appear as different as I possibly can. I only suggest it because it's the only room in the castle that can provide us with what we need, whenever we need it. Will you be okay, or should I find a different room?"

"I'll be fine," Draco said softly, trying very hard not to think about what he had spent the better part of a year doing in that room.

"Good. We'll meet there every night at nine, to begin your submissive training. The rules will be relaxed there, as I'm sure you'll have a lot of questions."

"Like, what do I need training for?" Draco said in a slightly petulant tone.

"To teach you what it is I desire and expect out of you." Harry's voice was kind, but unwavering.

"Anything else?" Draco said, and his tone hadn't really improved. Harry didn't miss that.

"Draco, the first lesson that you'll need to learn as a submissive is to be not only obedient, but patient. Don't sulk when I tell you to do something you don't want to do. Though I will not punish you for it, if you become excessively unpleasant to be around due to sulking, I will dismiss you."

Draco's heart stilled for half a second. _Dismiss_?

"I think those are enough rules for you to remember now," Harry smiled. Draco let out a small sigh of relief, which Harry thankfully chose to ignore. Draco pressed his face into Harry's trousers again, uncertain why he was drawing so much strength from this position, but choosing to enjoy it, nonetheless. Harry, for his part, seemed content to stay in that position.

Ten minutes later, the dinner bell rang, and Harry and Draco were jolted out of their haze.

"Stand up," Harry said. Draco reluctantly did so, wincing at the sharp pain that shot through his knees. They walked out into the corridor

Harry pulled Draco into an embrace, one which he accepted gladly. Harry held Draco for a few moments, and then released him.

"Eat dinner," he said quietly, and Draco felt that he might be torn apart by emeralds. "I'll see you tomorrow." He stroked a hand down Draco's face, and walked away.

When Harry turned the corner, Draco felt strange, almost broken. He wanted to ask if Harry had charmed him, but he knew of no potion or spell that could make someone feel this way. Fall in love, yes. Fall into submission, not quite as such.

Draco turned and walked to the Great Hall, and after he had taken the first step, knew that 27 hours was just far too long.

How was he to cope with this?

**A/N:** Still trying to put together a beta, so I apologize for any mistakes. The last two chapters were mostly exposition. The next chapter we'll start seeing some action, my muse permitting. Adios!

-CatJetRat


	7. Chapter 7

_I've got troubled thoughts and the self-esteem to match; what a catch..._

**Another Shot at Life**

**Chapter 7**

**Draco**

One in the morning. Draco lay staring at the green canopy above.

Two in the morning. Cold seeped into his toes as he lay on his side.

Three in the morning. House elves crept through the room, trying to clean quietly.

Four in the morning. Draco was barely awake but unable to sleep.

Five in the morning. Draco's heart started pounding in that way that hearts do when they haven't gotten enough sleep.

Six in the morning. Draco's stomach started rumbling.

Seven in the morning. If he'd had windows the sun would be shining.

Eight in the morning. Draco dragged himself from bed.

* * *

"You look terrible," Pansy said conversationally.

Any witty retorts Draco might have had were lost in the hazy muddle. He would have attacked his pancakes if he'd had the energy, but at the moment, it seemed more important to move slowly.

Pansy's eyebrows rose at the lack of response.

"Care to enlighten me as to what happened after you tore out of the library yesterday?"

"Not really," Draco mumbled through a mouthful of regrettably salty egg yolk.

"I don't think I've ever seen you this undignified," Pansy said. "What did Potter do? I'll turn him into a toad for you."

Draco shook his head vigorously and swallowed.

"No, no, it's fine, he's fine, I'm fine, everything's fine! He…accepted me, I guess." Draco said, lowering his voice.

"You guess?" Pansy's eyebrows rose higher.

"I don't really know," Draco shrugged. "He makes me…he makes it hard to think clearly when I'm around him."

"Well, what was said?"

"I—" Draco frowned. "I don't really know. There was a lot of…petting."

An amused grin started to make its way across Pansy's face, and Draco hastened to correct himself.

"Not like that," he said. "He was petting my hair. I don't really know why, but I liked it."

Pansy nodded. "It's not uncommon. Were you kneeling?"

Heat flooded Draco's face. Everything that had occurred yesterday between him and Potter seemed a lot more humiliating in the harsh light of the Great Hall with Pansy's expectant face mere inches from his. Why had he done and agreed to all the things he had yesterday? When Potter was near him, it had seemed very important to do everything he was told. Very important to be as near him as possible.

Draco scrubbed a hand over his face. "Yes," he mumbled, not meeting her eyes. She reached out and grasped his hand.

"Draco," she said, and he looked up at her earnest tone. "You don't need to feel embarrassed, unless that's your thing. I'm not going to make fun of you, I promise."

"I feel stupid," Draco confessed quietly. "I don't know how to be submissive. I feel so…weak. Is that why I'm submissive? Because I'm weak?"

"Of course not!" Pansy looked horrified. "Draco, never think that! Submission requires more courage and strength than many men or women possess. It requires you to come to grips not only with who you really are and what you want, but to place the ultimate trust in someone else. Frankly I'm astonished that you're able to give Potter that level of trust."

"Well, we're going slowly," Draco muttered, swallowing. Why was he giving Potter that trust, again? He glanced at Pansy. "Do you think you could give me an idea of what he'll expect from me? What to be ready for?"

Pansy shrugged. "Every Dominant is different. He probably has his own idea of what he'll want from you. I'd just wait and see. I can't really give you any advice except to be obedient unless he gives an indication that he wants something else. Some Dominants like bratty subs. However, based upon what you've told me, I don't think Harry is one of them."

"Is it unusual that I liked it when he was…" Draco hesitated, trying to find the right word, "…_stern_ with me? I mean, he grabbed my hair, called me '_boy'_—" Draco's lip curled "—and I got…hard." Draco's face turned, if it was possible, even pinker.

Pansy smiled, but it was a gentle smile, and Draco was started to feel rather unnerved. She'd never been this nice before. "No, that makes perfect sense. However, I would caution against intentionally provoking him to incite that sort of response. It's called 'topping from the bottom', and most Dominants do not appreciate it."

"Of course not," Draco said guiltily, trying to look as if the idea had not actually occurred to him.

"Parkinson."

Draco spilled his tea everywhere as all of his nerve endings exploded in anticipation at the sound of that voice.

"Potter," Pansy nodded, almost respectfully, and Draco was relieved that she didn't revert back to her painfully annoying alter ego.

A warm hand snaked its way around the back of his neck. Draco thought he might die from the conflicting emotions crashing around in his head combined with lack of sleep.

"Draco. Will you sit with me at Gryffindor?"

"Of course," Draco said, trying to salvage the dignity Pansy had informed him that he'd lost. He stood up, slinging his bag over his shoulder, and walked over to the Gryffindor table. He was relieved that Potter was taking him to a completely empty section, but hyperaware of the bewildered look the Weasel and Weasellete were giving them, the resigned look on Granger's face, and the fact that Potter had yet to remove his hand from the back of Draco's neck.

"Don't you think that might draw attention to us?" Draco whispered, jerking his head slightly.

Potter glanced over at his friends, grinning. "Trust me, Draco, there is very little that we could do that wouldn't draw attention to ourselves."

Indeed, now that Draco bothered to look at the rest of the Hall, every eye seemed to be on them, and all of them seemed to be attached to curious and confused faces.

All except for Severus Snape, who did seem to be studying their every movement, but not in a confused way. More in an…evaluative way.

They reached the Gryffindor table. Potter put pressure on his neck, and Draco sat. Potter took the seat across from him. He pulled food towards him and started shoveling bacon into his mouth. Draco stared in vague dismay, wondering if that was how he had appeared to Pansy earlier. Potter swallowed and smiled irresistibly at Draco, and Draco found himself unwillingly smiling back. Draco wondered how on earth the man smiling innocently at him with a black piece of bacon stuck to his front tooth could be the exact same man that had put him on his knees and called him 'boy' less than twelve hours ago.

"Potter, can I ask you something?" Draco said abruptly.

"Sure," Potter shrugged, putting pancakes on his plate. "If you promise to start calling me Harry."

"Fine," Draco said, a tad impatiently. "How did you realize that you were, and how did you learn to be—" Draco waved his hands helplessly at Po—Harry, who raised his eyebrows.

"Learn to be what?'"

Draco looked back and forth to check that no one was near, and leaned forward. "Dominant," he whispered. Harry laughed, and Draco felt rather taken aback.

"I can't reveal the secrets of my Domliness," Harry said in a mock-scandalized tone. "I'll lose all my powers!"

_Domliness_? Draco wasn't sure why, but he was starting to lose his temper.

"Look, Potter, I just want to understand what the hell's happening here!" Draco snapped. As soon as the words left his mouth, he knew they were a mistake. Harry's expression turned stern, and he reached out under the table and grasped Draco's hand tightly.

"Do _not_ take that tone with me, boy," Harry said in a dangerous voice.

Draco's heart slammed into his ribs, and he felt oddly cowed, but at the same time, he still felt angry. The two emotions battled for a moment. Anger won.

"You want me to trust you, and I'm trying!" Draco hissed. "I just don't really understand what's going on, or how to deal with what's happening."

Harry's expression cleared somewhat, and he regarded Draco contemplatively. After a moment, he spoke. "You're a submissive. I'm a Dominant. You asked me to dominate you. I assumed you understood what that meant. Do you?"

"I—" Draco felt oddly embarrassed. "Not really. I was talking to Pansy trying to understand what I was feeling, and she said something about BDSM, and how I'm a submissive, and that I clearly wanted you to dominate me, and the impression that I got from what she was saying was that if I went to you and asked you to dominate me, I would stop feeling confused and anxious. And it did work!" Draco said, almost defensively. "What happened yesterday made me feel really…nice, while it was happening. But then you left, and I was confused again, and I couldn't sleep all night, so now I'm here, trying to understand what's going on."

Harry looked worried now. "I was going to ask you why you looked exhausted." He sighed. "Okay, Draco. Short version. I'm a Dominant. That generally means that I enjoy exerting a certain amount of control over another person, called a submissive. You're a submissive. Submissives generally tend to enjoy bending to the will of a Dominant, and doing various things to please them. Some submissives are also masochists, meaning that they derive a certain pleasure from pain, and some Dominants are also sadists, meaning that they enjoy giving pain. However," Harry raised his hand, seeing the somewhat panicked look on Draco's face. "We can discuss that more later. I won't hurt you unless I'm punishing you. Do you have any specific questions?"

"What will I be expected to do?" Draco said.

"Draco, we're going to take that one step at a time. I don't want us to get ahead of ourselves," Harry said patiently. "But I promise I won't ever make you do anything that is permanently damaging. Okay?"

Draco nodded. He felt strangely vulnerable sitting there amidst his oblivious peers, discussing trust and Domination and submission with a wizard he would have professed hatred for to anyone who asked not twenty-four hours ago. Harry's hand, still on his under the table, relaxed, and Harry began to rub soothing circles over the back of Draco's hand.

"Breathe, Draco," Harry said gently, and Draco took in a deep breath of cold air. It felt strangely relaxing, and Draco took a few more breaths for good measure. "Do you have anymore questions?"

Draco shook his head. "No, sir," he said softly, mumbling over the last word, but Harry's almost blinding smile seemed worth it.

"If you have any other questions, ask," Harry said, and his tone brooked no argument. He turned back to his food, and Draco was relieved that he didn't demand that Draco eat as well. Draco's stomach was far too knotted for food. Harry's thumb continued to gently rub the back of Draco's hand, and Draco did his best to ignore the fluttering in his stomach. The last thing he needed was any more emotion.

Harry shoved the last of the sausages on his plate into his mouth, downed his tea, and stood up, finally dropping Draco's hand. He grinned at Draco again.

"So are you going to come with me to Transfiguration, or you just going to sit there all day?"

Draco stood up hastily and tripped over himself trying to get over to Harry. Harry smoothed Draco's hair back from his face and let his hand trail down Draco's cheek before falling back to his side.

"Come on," he said, nodding his head towards the door. They walked right past the Weasels and Granger. Draco almost thought that Weasel was going to get up and punch him in the face, but he stayed in his seat, merely giving Draco his most hateful glare.

Draco jerked a little when Granger stood up to walk with them. Harry's hand reached out and briefly closed over his wrist in reassurance.

"Hello," she said in a forced cheerful tone. "Are you both ready for Transfiguration today? I'm so excited that we're finally done with the research and moving on to the practical part of transfiguring objects into animals. I was getting a bit tired of all the bookwork."

"_You_ were tired of bookwork, Hermione?" Harry said incredulously, and even Draco felt a bit skeptical.

Her cheeks flushed a bit. "I enjoy the practical side of magic as well. I'm not all about theory, you know!"

"Whatever you say," Harry said, shooting a smile at Draco, who smiled back helplessly. Draco felt like a bit of an idiot, but it was very difficult to respond to Harry with anything but a smile now that they were sort of friends.

"What about you, Draco?" Hermione said with false bravado. "Are you excited about the lesson?"

Draco bit back every unkind word that he'd been trained to deliver to her over the last seven years. His opinions on Muggle-borns hadn't changed too much, but enough pain had been caused by hatred of Muggles and Muggle-borns, and Draco would be damned before he would add to it any more.

"Yes," he said, and smiled at her as well. Harry's smile broadened.

* * *

Harry rejoined his Gryffindor friends at lunch, and Draco didn't ask to join them. He sat with Pansy, and devoured his Shepard's pie while she barraged him with questions.

"We're going slowly" was his oft-delivered response, and she eventually gave up, but not before adding that they looked cute together. Draco nearly vomited into his bowl.

"We aren't some bleeding doey-eyed couple walking around holding hands!" he sputtered.

Pansy smirked and opened her mouth again, only to abruptly cut herself off. "Blaise!" she shrieked, and Draco winced as she draped herself all over the tall black boy that had just joined them.

Draco made a quick escape while she was occupied, and ran out of the Great Hall.

As soon as the doors closed behind him, a hand snaked out and grabbed Draco's arm, yanking him into the shadows.

"Merlin, Potter, do you have to—"

"Shut up, Malfoy!" A wand tip pressed to his throat, and Draco recognized the voice of Ginny Weasley.

At a different time in his life, Draco might have been a little apprehensive about being cornered by the diminutive yet powerful witch. At this point though, all he could feel was annoyance.

"What do you want, Weasellete?"

"Look, I don't care that Harry's taken a liking to you for a moment. I still know that you're evil, and when you do finally show your true colors, I'll be glad to show Harry who he really needs in his life," she screeched. "In fact, I should just kill you now. Everyone would thank me for it!"

"Oh, please," Draco rolled his eyes, and slapped her wand out of her hand. She stood there, somewhat astonished. "While you were comfortably cooling your heels at Hogwarts and staying out of the line of fire for the last year of the war, I was a prisoner in my own home, forced to do the Dark Lord's bidding and tortured on a weekly basis. Trust me when I say that you don't scare me. And I'm not really interested in getting into a girly hair-pulling fight over a guy that dumped you a long time ago. Piss off."

Draco felt a not small amount of satisfaction as he watched the muscles working in her throat while she struggled to come up with a response. She finally managed to spit out, "I'll be watching you!"

"You do that," Draco sneered.

She ran off, grabbing her wand along the way. Draco smirked. There weren't a lot of benefits to experiencing the horrors that he had experienced, but getting to tell off smart-ass, spoiled little bitches was definitely one of them. He shook his head and headed off to the dungeons.

Harry and Professor Snape were chatting again when he entered the classroom, and Draco took his usual seat, despite his curiosity.

Harry glanced at him, his expression warm, but quickly turned his attention back to Severus. Draco stared at his hands, resisting the urge to twiddle his thumbs.

They spoke for another five minutes, but then the Weasel and Granger came in. Harry and Severus separated. His friends took a seat, but instead of joining them as he usually did, Harry came and sat next to Draco.

"Aren't they your partners?" Draco asked, jerking a head towards Granger and Weasley.

"I'll join them in a minute. I just wanted to say hi," Harry replied.

Draco frowned. "Aren't we being a little obvious?" he said under his breath. "I mean we go from completely ignoring each other to suddenly being around each other a lot. Aren't people asking questions?"

"They are," Harry said cheerfully. "I'm just not answering. They can speculate all they want. I'm past caring. My business is my own."

Draco laughed softly. Funny what being in a war will make a person care about. More people started filing in. Harry looked behind himself, then back at Draco. "Nine o'clock tonight?" he said in a low voice. Draco nodded, and Harry smiled. He squeezed Draco's hand and returned to Weasley and Granger.

Draco watched him go, anticipation coiling in his stomach.

Tonight.

**A/N:** Sorry this took so long, guys. School's killing me. I'm still working on a beta, but I think I have one in the works, so maybe look for a repost of this chapter. Also, one thing I must note is that this is fiction, and not how a real D/s relationship should be conducted. If you're interested in this stuff do your research and exercise the utmost caution before pursuing it. I also want you guys to keep in mind that Harry's eighteen years old. Just because Draco thinks Harry knows what he's doing, it doesn't mean that he does. Adios!

-CatJetRat


	8. Chapter 8

"_You're the only place that feels like home…"_

**Another Shot at Life**

**Chapter 8**

**Draco**

Draco's footsteps sounded unnecessarily loud as he followed the regrettably familiar route to the Room of Requirement. He trailed his hands across the stone walls, no longer damp and mold-covered, the way they had been two years ago. Strange how Hogwarts being rebuilt to be cleaner and more modern simply made the reality of what had happened there all the more apparent. And if Draco told himself that his pounding heart was due to excitement and not trauma, who could blame him, really?

Draco reached the corridor on seventh floor. He had somehow managed to avoid this corridor for the past three months, and had been hoping to avoid it for the rest of his life, if possible. And yet.

Draco took deep, steadying breaths with each step. The door was already there, slightly open, meaning that Harry had already opened the room. Draco swallowed thickly. This was fine. Everything was just fine. If he could just reach the door and walk inside, Harry would be there and everything would be fine.

The door was drawing closer, and closer, solid and wooden and horribly unforgettable. But that was okay. Everything was….

Draco could feel himself growing dizzy and nauseated. Crabbe had died in that room. He may have been stupid and cruel, but he had been Draco's companion for almost his entire life. Draco couldn't bring himself to feel anything other than grief at his death.

He was almost at the door. Draco reached for the handle, and there, right there, a small scorch mark.

Draco fell to his knees, eyes falling shut as flames erupted in front of them. He could hear screams, and feel the heat of the fire, skin and hair scorching as he struggled to breathe in the burning air, ripping his lungs apart.

"Draco?"

Draco's eyes snapped open, and he realized that he was lying on the floor, shaking. Harry knelt down next to him, guilt in his eyes.

"I'm sorry, Draco. I shouldn't have asked you to come here," he said softly. Harry reached out, picked Draco up off the ground, and stood up.

"I'm not a bleeding girl," Draco mumbled, even as he pressed his face into Harry's chest, which rumbled as Harry laughed.

"I'm quite aware," he said.

Draco kept his eyes shut as he was carried off somewhere, and felt deeply grateful for the first time at the lack of students occupying Hogwarts.

They entered a dark room, and Draco felt himself being set on a bed. He cracked his eyes open and watched Harry light a fire and turn on some lights. The room was somewhat large, and seemed almost like a classroom, except there were no desks. There were a couple of chairs next to a table; the bed Draco was lying on, and a couch.

"Where are we?" Draco inquired, looking around.

"Abandoned classroom that I kind of…turned into my own private space," Harry explained. "I wasn't sure if you would feel comfortable in the Room of Requirement or not, so I prepared this as a back up. Is this okay?"

Draco nodded. "Thank you," he said gratefully. "I didn't want to be…there."

A rueful smile tugged at the corners of Harry's mouth. "I thought not. I shouldn't have suggested it in the first place. I just thought it might be easier there. But this works too."

"What are we going to be doing?" Draco asked, sitting up.

Harry frowned. "Draco, are you sure you're up for—"

"I'm fine," Draco said sharply. Harry's eyes narrowed, and Draco amended, "Please, Harry. I want to do this."

"Okay, then," Harry said. He stood up and walked over to where Draco was sitting. He ran his hands through Draco's hair, and Draco's eyes shut lazily as he relished the sensation. Pansy used to stroke his hair, but Harry was much better at it. "Why do you want to do this?" Harry asked quietly.

Draco's eyes opened reluctantly, and he considered the question. "I'm not sure. Just…when we're together, I feel safe. I like the way you make me feel when you grab my hair, or whisper in my ear." Draco's face was growing warmer, but he pressed on. "I don't really understand everything that's happening. I just want it to continue to happen."

"Do you trust me?" The question was put forth rather noncommittally, but Draco could hear the slight uncertainty in Harry's tone.

"I'm trying to," he said honestly. "It's not the easiest thing."

Harry nodded, and continued to run his fingers through Draco's hair. "Any time you want me to stop what I'm doing, just tell me, and I'll stop, and we'll discuss what bothered you."

"Yes, sir," Draco replied, and felt a strange sense of longing upon speaking those words.

Harry's fingers tightened in Draco's hair, and he tugged Draco off the bed. Draco went willingly, sinking instantly to his knees.

"When you come into this room, you will assume this position in the middle of the room. You will wait for me to come to you. You will wait to speak until spoken to, and you will respond with a 'sir' at the end of your sentence when affirming that you will do something. If you have a question, however, you may pose it. Is that understood?"

"Yes, sir," Draco said.

"Good boy," Harry replied with affection. Draco felt a swooping sensation deep within the pit of his stomach.

"When we are outside of this room, we will attempt to behave the way normal friends might. Try to be somewhat respectful, but try not to act cowed around me—"

"I do not act cowed—!" Draco began hotly.

"You will also _not_ interrupt me," Harry said sharply, clenching Draco's hair. Draco's mouth shut, but he was already feeling slightly rebellious.

"Some Dominants like their submissives to be bratty. I am not one of them. If you are disobedient, you will be punished," Harry warned.

"How?" Draco asked.

"Usually with a spanking, either with my hand or belt. If, however, I discover that you enjoy that too much, I will find a different method of punishment," Harry said, and Draco guiltily tried not to look as if his dick had hardened at thought of being spanked. Harry was, unfortunately, very perceptive.

Harry gently nudged Draco's hard on with his foot, and Draco inhaled sharply. Harry grinned, and knelt down next to him. He leaned closer to Draco to whisper in his ear. "What, does the thought of being put over my knee turn you on?" Harry used the hand not holding Draco's head to run over the noticeable bulge. Chills ran down Draco's spine at the contact, and he shuddered, trying like hell not to hump Harry's hand like a third year on his first date. Harry was not, however, helping the situation. His hand went from tracing to rubbing, then grasping Draco's dick through his pants. Draco whimpered and buried his face in Harry's shoulder as Harry started slowly jerking him off.

"Please, Harry," Draco moaned.

"'Please, Harry,' what?" Harry replied, almost mockingly.

"Fuck me," Draco begged, and no, it was clear that at this point he would never recover his dignity.

"Maybe one day," Harry said eventually. His movements quickened. Draco abandoned all pretense and began rapidly jerking his hips, pushing into Harry's welcoming hand. Per Harry's order, he hadn't touched himself in over 24 hours, which was far longer than he was used to. He could feel his balls tightening, and stilled, suddenly remembering something from that book Pansy had given him.

"Is something wrong?" Harry asked.

"Can I come?" Draco asked, mortified.

A proud smile spread over Harry's face. "Good boy," he said. "I'm glad you remembered who owns your orgasms. Yes, you may."

"Thank you," Draco bit out, and it took only a few more thrusts before he was violently orgasming in his pants. He all but collapsed against Harry, panting. Harry wrapped his arms around Draco and pulled him into an embrace.

After a few moments, Draco reached out towards Harry's trousers, but Harry caught his hand halfway.

"I appreciate the sentiment, Draco, but it is not to you to decide when I take my own pleasure. Your pleasure is my responsibility. Not the other way around," Harry said firmly.

"Yes, sir," Draco replied, and leaned heavily against him.

They sat like that for a while; Draco curled up against Harry, refusing to consider it cuddling.

"What else are we going to be doing today?" Draco asked after a bit.

Harry gently pushed Draco away and went to retrieve his bag. Draco gazed after him, starkly aware of how vulnerable he felt without Harry holding him.

Harry returned with a quill and some parchment, and handed them to Draco. "I want you to write out the rules as I have given them to you thus far," Harry instructed. "When you have finished, I will look it over to make sure that you got everything down correctly. When I give you new rules, you will add them to this parchment. I will try to give them to you gradually, so that you will have time to get used to them. Is that understood?"

"Yes, sir," Draco replied, and turned his attention to the parchment. While he wrote, Harry pulled up a chair and sat down behind Draco, who leaned against his thigh.

Draco handed him the parchment. A small smile crossed Harry's face as he read. "Perfect," Harry said. "That's my boy." Draco shivered. "I want you to read this each morning when you wake up, so you'll be reminded of them, and will never forget."

"Yes, sir."

"Now, I think that's enough for tonight," Harry said, and chuckled at the disappointed look on Draco's face. "I figured we'd study for a while."

"I didn't bring my books," Draco said.

"That's okay. We'll use mine." Harry summoned his bag and pulled out his Transfiguration textbook and his Potions textbook. He waved the books at Draco. "Which do you need to study more?"

"Transfiguration," Draco responded promptly.

"Good," Harry said, and handed Draco the appropriate textbook.

How long they studied like that, Draco curled up at Harry's feet and Harry's hand idly stroking Draco's hair, Draco couldn't tell. However, he reflected, he would have done much better on his OWLs if he'd studied in this position.

The clock struck twelve, and Draco jerked sharply, head hitting Harry's knee. "Shite!" Draco cursed, rubbing his head. "Are you okay, Harry?"

"I'm fine," Harry said, amusement apparent in his voice. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Draco muttered, annoyed with himself.

"I think maybe it's time we both went to bed," Harry said, yawning. Draco stiffened.

Harry tugged lightly on Draco's hair. "What's wrong?" he asked gently.

"I just…I don't know if I can…." Draco stumbled over his words, annoyed at his inability to be even slightly coherent around Harry anymore.

Harry waited patiently for a few moments. "If you can…?" he prompted.

"I had a really hard time sleeping last night," Draco mumbled. Understanding washed across Harry's face.

"I see," he said. "Come on, Draco, stand up."

Draco stood, heart pounding as Harry stood as well, and turned Draco to face him. Piercing green eyes sliced right through to his core, and Draco's eyes fell, unable to stand the assault.

Warm fingers gently traced his jaw, and goose bumps erupted all along his body. Harry allowed his fingers to trail slowly down until they reached the back of Draco's neck, where they tightened as they had before. Draco raised his eyes to look at Harry again.

Harry leaned in and pressed a kiss to Draco's forehead. Draco's eyes slid shut in contentment, and he relaxed into the kiss. After a few moments, Harry pulled back.

"I want you to sleep tonight," Harry told him firmly. "I want you to relax and know that you will see me again tomorrow. Everything will be okay. Is that understood?"

Draco hesitated only a moment before responding. "Yes, sir."

Harry reached down and picked up his bag, slinging it over his shoulder. "Now come on. I'll walk you back to Slytherin."

"Thanks," Draco murmured, and with that, they left the room.

**A/N:** So. *Sigh*. I know it's been a while since I've updated. For that, I must apologize. I've been swamped with school, and my doctor's got me on this annoying antidepressant regime that's made it hard to write. I'll be frank. I don't know when I'll be able to update again. I've reached a roadblock with this story that I'm having difficultly overcoming. I really like this story, and I know many of you do as well. I want to devote some time to it, and I will try. But the truth of it is that sometimes I can't overcome roadblocks. However, don't lose faith. I will do my best to think about this story and make of it what I can. I know where I want to go, I'm just not altogether certain how to get there from here. I can make few promises except for this one: when I finally do update again, and trust me, I will, it will be as marvelous as I can make it. If any of you are willing to give words of comfort, they will mean a great deal to me, and even more so if you would like to be my beta/roadblock mover. Even if not, I will hope for reviews, and will my muse to return to me. Farewell for now. Adios!

-CatJetRat


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